


Double Trouble!

by Ninja_Librarian



Series: The Many Adventures of Duckburg's Heroes! [5]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Cartoon Typical Violence, Drake needs a nap, Look for the Tangled references in Ch 1, M/M, Maybe he needs to double fist those stress toys..., Or a stress toy, annoying neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_Librarian/pseuds/Ninja_Librarian
Summary: There is only one Darkwing Duck--or is there?Drake's life has been the actual worst since his sister and brother-in-law, the dreaded Muddlefoots, moved in next door. They're nosy and noisy, interfering and judging, and go out of their way to make Drake feel like a bad parent to Gosalyn.Somehow, Darkwing Duck has an even bigger problem than obnoxious neighbors: someone proclaiming to be Darkwing Duck has been behind a series of robberies all over Duckburg, leading to the real Darkwing being arrested!After some convincing, the Chief of Police is willing to give Darkwing a chance to clear his name, but with some conditions: no help from the police, no help from Gizmoduck, no help from Scrooge McDuck... and no help from Launchpad.Will Darkwing be able to prove his innocence? Or will his crime-fighting career end with him behind bars?
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Series: The Many Adventures of Duckburg's Heroes! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478648
Comments: 65
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

Late at night, all was quiet inside Duckburg Galleria. The customers had all gone, there was no employees doing inventory or resetting displays, and all the stores were locked up. Still, security guards Stan and Pete took pride in doing their job well as they patrolled that night.

Suddenly, their radios pinged.

“Stan, Pete, saw something in the fourth quadrant, near the jewelry store,” Max said from the security booth.

“Copy that, headed there now,” Pete replied.

They headed in that direction, but the sound of a bomb going off urged them to run faster towards the store.

They arrived to find smoke and nearly tripped over pieces of the protective bars that typically encircled the store when it was closed, now blasted to smithereens.

As they coughed through the smoke, they heard the sound of glass shattering, and could depict a figure, slightly hunched, as he filled a cloth bag with jewelry.

“Stop right there!” Stan ordered while Pete requested back-up over the radio.

To Stan’s surprise, the figure did stop.

And cackle.

“Rent-a-cop fools,” The figure growled in a low, gravelly voice. “I am the terror that flaps in the night.”

Then, in the smoke, he disappeared.

Stan and Pete clicked on their flashlights, shining the light around, trying to find the person.

Stan let out an ‘ooph’ as he felt a kick on the back, sending him to the floor.

Pete whirled around, searching frantically for the person.

“I am the uneven table leg that you can never balance.”

Pete stumbled back as he felt a fist hit his face, tripping over the bars and landing on the floor beside Stan as the figure stood over them both.

“Who are you?” Stan demanded, his voice quivering.

The beak curled into a cruel smile.

“I am the one, the only, Darkwing Duck.”

*****

“I hate the Muddlefoots,” Drake growled as his thumbs jabbed the controller buttons much harder than perhaps necessary.

“We know, you’ve said that, like, eighty times now,” Louie commented from where he sat on the back of the television room couch, a can of Pep in hand.

“And that’s just today,” Webby added from where she was perched on the armrest.

“And that’s just since we’ve been here,” Launchpad added from where he sat on the floor in front of the coffee table beside Huey, who was practicing advanced knot work for a Junior Woodchuck badge.

“Haven’t your new neighbors only been here for, like, a week?” Dewey asked, from the other end of the couch, the other controller in his hand, his tongue poking out from between his beak in concentration. “Ooh, power up! Power up! Grab the power up, Drake!”

“Do I look like a fool?” Drake snapped as he got the power up. “And, yes, they’ve been here a week and it’s been a week too long!”

“I suggested we burn their house to the ground so that they’d have to move, but Dad says that’s arson and wrong,” Gosalyn said from where she was upside down, her head hanging over the end of the couch and her feet on the back.

“I may be reconsidering…” Drake admitted. “This week has been a living hell…”

“Agreed,” Gosalyn said, nodding slightly as she thumped her feet onto the back of the couch.

“It must have, because you’re even angrier than Uncle Donald on a bad day,” Huey commented. “And that’s saying something.”

“You’d be angry, too, if your childhood bully’s younger brother married your younger sister, who thinks that you’re a disgrace and generally incompetent person—even though she literally married the most simple of simpletons in the world.” Drake said. “I thought Tank Muddlefoot was bad. But no. Herb Muddlefoot is ten times worse, through the sheer power of stupidity. And then every single encounter with them this week has been more aggravating than the previous.”

“Initiating flashback sequence,” Gosalyn said as she flipped herself upright.

***

_It should have been a peaceful Sunday. It would have been, too, if not for the new neighbors._

_Drake had known the Muddlefoots were moving in the day previously. He had been asked to help with the process—as free labor in the name family loyalty. He noped out of that pretty fast._

_Drake had instead stated that he couldn’t, as he had to work and Gosalyn had a birthday party to go to._

_In truth, they hid out at McDuck Manor, playing video games and eating pizza until it was time for Drake and Launchpad to go on patrol. Drake was even feeling generous and let Gosalyn come._

_It was a rough night. He thought it was an omen, given the correlation of events: the Muddlefoots moved in, and Duckburg experienced one of the worst nights of crime since the looting that took place during the Moonlanders Invasion._

_Needless to say, no one in the Mallard household planned on getting up before noon._

_Which was why Drake was planning a homicide at seven in the morning, as the doorbell rang over and over, accompanied by a too-cheery female voice calling, “Drakey? Oh, Drakey!”_

_Drake reluctantly crawled out of Launchpad’s arms and stomped down the stairs, not bothering to hide his fury as he threw open the door._

_“It,” He growled. “Is too early in the morning for this, Binkie.”_

_“Oh, Drakey, you’ve never been a morning person,” Binkie tittered. “But it’s time to rise and shine and face the day!”_

_“What,” Drake snarled. “Do you want? This early in the morning?”_

_“Oh, you see now,” Binkie said, holding a glass measuring cup. “I was hoping to borrow a cup of milk. Haven’t made it to the store, now, you see? What with the moving and all. Perhaps if we had had help from you and Gosalyn yesterday…”_

_“So this is punishment for having to work on the day you happen to be moving,” Drake spat, narrowing his eyes. “And I worked late, by the way. Very, very, very late into the night. Didn’t get home until after midnight.”_

_Binkie looked appalled. “And where was Gosalyn all this time? I can’t imagine you left my sweet little niece here all by herself…”_

_“She was with me,” Drake said, trying not to grind his teeth and glad he wasn’t technically lying. “She comes and stays at my office when I work late.”_

_Well. On weekends and federal holidays._

_“Oh dear, that can’t be good for a young, developing mind…” Binkie said, putting her fingertips to her mouth in dismay._

_“You want your milk or not?” Drake demanded._

_“Oh, yes, please, if it’s not a bother.”_

_Drake glared at her then dragged his hand over his face. “Right.”_

_He grabbed the entire milk carton, shoved it at her, then slammed the door in her face. Then he retreated upstairs and curled up on the bed, and went back to sleep._

_He wasn’t asleep long before the drilling started._

_Drake once again pulled himself out of bed and opened the window, leaning out and shouting, “Hey!”_

_Herb Muddlefoot looked up from his project and waved, drill in hand. “Well, howdy neighbor!”_

_“Herb,” Drake said through gritted teeth. “Is there any chance you could, you know, keep it to a dull roar over there? Binkie must not have told you, but I’m currently trying to sleep over here, after working a night shift.”_

_“She told me!” Herb said jovially. “But, sorry, Drakester, I’m burning daylight. Gotta get these projects done today. First impressions of the family come from the outside of the home, you know? That’s what Binkie says. So until we can get the house looking all nice and unpacked inside, we’ve got to make sure that the outside reflects the family values. One way or another, gotta keep the missuses happy, you know? A happy wife means a happy life!”_

_“Some would say it’s better to keep in the good graces of your neighbors, but I digress,” Drake hissed before shutting the window with more force than intended._

_The loud screaming of children at play soon woke Drake up again, and this time he didn’t even bother getting out of bed. Just grabbed his pillow and put it over his head._

_He had met his nephews twice in the last month. Six year old Charles “Champ” Muddlefoot and four year old Herbert “Honker” Muddlefoot, Jr. Drake knew instantly that there was no use asking Binkie or Herb to corral their sons—or, more accurately, Champ. Those two meetings had told him a lot about both boys._

_Champ provided a lot of unwanted flashbacks to dealing with the boy’s other uncle, Tank Muddlefoot. In short, he was a terror, a bully, and could do no wrong in his parents’ eyes. Not even when Gosalyn had yelped when Champ pulled her hair, or pinched his brother._

_Honker, however, was quiet, reserved, had a bit of a stutter, and frequently picked on by his older brother—his parents completely oblivious._

_If pressed, Drake would freely and proudly admit he had a favorite nephew. And even though he despised the childhood nickname of “Drakey” that his mother and sister would never drop, he found he somehow didn’t mind it coming out of Honker’s mouth._

_But for now, Honker was on his own._

_Uncle Drakey needed sleep…_

***

_Gosalyn was late, so very, very late._

_Her Dad and Launchpad weren’t home yet from their night on patrol, and they were usually the ones to coax her out of the bed (gently or not) after she had hit the snooze button on her alarm clock. Hitting snooze twice and three phone calls from her dad finally got her moving—especially when she saw the time. She barely had time to scarf down a bowl of oatmeal, and she got most of it on her t-shirt. She didn’t have time to change, the bus would be there any second._

_She was rushing out the door when she heard,_

_“Gosalyn! Oh Gosalyn, dear!”_

_“Sorry, can’t stop!” Gosalyn skidded to a stop at the mailbox to respond to Binkie—a mistake, she’d later learn. “I’m running late, gotta get the bus!”_

_“Oh, but dear,” Binkie said, frowning from where she stood near the bushes. “Surely you’re not going to school dressed like that, are you?”_

_“It’s what I usually wear,” Gosalyn said, glancing down a bit self-consciously at her jeans, t-shirt and jacket—the latter two of which had a bit of oatmeal on them._

_“Why, you’re positively filthy! You can’t go to school like that!” Binkie said with a frown. “Oh, I know! I have just the thing! You’ll just adore it—and look so stylish!”_

_“No time,” Gosalyn said, starting to run down the sidewalk. “I’ve got to catch the—”_

_Her face dropped as she watched the bus drive away, her shoulders slump._

_“Oh, Gosalyn dear…” Binkie said. “I’ll drive you to school with the boys. There’s plenty of room, and you’ll have time to change! Now, come in and I’ll show you—”_

_“I’ll accept the ride,” Gosalyn conceded, turning on her heel. “But give me just a minute and I’ll go change my—” She patted her pockets with growing horror. No, no, no, no… She quickly pulled off her backpack and started searching frantically before it dawned on her._

_Her house-key was still inside…_

_Binkie’s eyes gleamed with delight as Gosalyn felt her entire body go cold. “Now, come on in, dear, and we’ll have you ready to go in no time.”_

_“I can go to school dressed like this, I don’t want to be late,” Gosalyn said quickly. “Or the boys to be late on their first day.”_

_“Oh, no, we’ll have plenty of time still…”_

_And that was how Gosalyn went to school. In a dress._

_A pink, frilly dress with a huge butt bow._

_“Now, dear, we don’t say that ‘b’ word,” Binkie had chided when Gosalyn had called it such._

_“What, bow?” Gosalyn retorted._

_Binkie simply sighed and left Gosalyn to change. “Oh you poor dear, surrounded by testosterone…”_

_Everyone was staring at Gosalyn, who slunk into her seat and pulled out a book, trying to hide._

_But that was impossible, because soon after the bell rang, the teacher said,_

_“Class, we have a new student joining us. He just moved here from St. Canard.”_

_Gosalyn sat bolt upright, her eyes wide._

_No, Champ was too young to be in her class. Right?_

_And Honker…_

_“Please welcome Honker Muddlefoot,” The teacher said as tiny little Honker entered the classroom, looking incredibly shy and followed by Binkie._

_“Oh, look, Honker!” Binkie said excitedly. “Gosalyn’s in your class! Your big cousin will take good care of you!”_

_Suddenly, all eyes were on Gosalyn again as she slid down her seat, wishing to melt into a puddle._

_She should have just stayed in bed._

***

 _Drake was a good person. A hero. He_ recycled _, dang it._

_But he was suddenly regretting that fact as he dragged the recycling bin to the curb for trash pick-up day._

_He was exhausted, and had dragged himself out of bed way too early for this. He had gotten home from patrolling with just enough time to get Gosalyn fed and out the door for school and fell into bed before he remembered what day it was._

_Trash day._

_Which he had missed last week, too…_

_So here he was, exhausted and barely able to see straight as he dragged the trash can and recycling box out to the curb, grumbling to himself and hoping to get this done and over with._

_“Howdy, neighbor!”_

_“Good morning, Drakey!”_

_Drake groaned and pretended he couldn’t hear, rustling the box so that the glass and cans rattled._

_So he nearly jumped out of his skin to turn around to see Binkie and Herb standing uncomfortably close._

_“What?” He demanded._

_“Oh my,” Binkie clucked. “That’s a lot of pizza boxes, Drakey…”_

_Drake narrowed his eyes. “I missed trash day last week.”_

_“Even still,” Binkie said, clearly looking disapproving. “Do you feed Gosalyn anything nutritious?”_

_“Of course I do!” Drake snapped. “But we do have a dedicated pizza night.”_

_And a night where he had been at Gyro’s lab all afternoon and hadn’t had time to cook dinner before patrol. And a night that had been the result of promising Gosalyn dinner of her choice if she got a B or higher on her spelling test. And a night he and Launchpad had picked up a pizza from an all-night shop on their way home from patrol when they were absolutely starving, Gosalyn happily eating their left-overs for breakfast._

_Okay, so they ate quite a bit of pizza in the last two weeks. So sue him._

_Binkie clucked her tongue again and walked away._

_Drake thought that was the end of that._

_Until the entire Muddlefoot family showed up on his doorstep—uninvited—with Binkie carrying a piping-hot, extra-large spinach casserole. Before Drake could even process and despite his insistence that he was already in the process of making dinner, Binkie had taken command of both his kitchen and dining room, serving everyone the casserole and talking about a nice family dinner._

_And making it very clear that she wasn’t leaving—and neither were Drake and Gosalyn—until their plates were empty._

_Which was made all the more difficult by this casserole being the most inedible thing on the planet, given that ‘casserole’ typically implied that there were other things in it other than the main ingredient. Nope, this was essentially a bunch of spinach cooked together in a casserole dish, somehow simultaneously too wet and mushy, and too dry and crunchy, but the Muddlefoots were gobbling it up like it was the best dish ever._

_It made Drake and Gosalyn wonder if this was the best tasting dinner Binkie had ever made._

_“Hey, Dad,” Gosalyn mumbled as she poked at the casserole. “Remember that time I asked about getting a dog? And any chance you’d reconsider that ‘no’?”_

_“I would if I didn’t consider the motives you currently want one for to be animal cruelty,” Drake muttered in response._

****

_“Go long, Launchpad!” Gosalyn hollered across the yard before throwing the football._

_Launchpad ran to catch the ball, but stopped within seconds of crashing into the tree. There was the sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping as the football landed in the branches._

_“Gee, Gos,” Launchpad said. “I think you should have told me to go high instead of go long.”_

_“Apparently,” Gos said, coming over to stand beside him, looking up. “Gimme a boost and I’ll get it.”_

_“Sure thing,” Launchpad said, kneeling down so she could climb on his back._

_Drake watched all this from where he sat on the front porch steps, sipping coffee and reading an article on his phone that Fenton had sent him. It was sciencey and Drake only understood about half of it, but it had given Fenton an idea about how to defeat the weather villain Dr. Fear if he escaped prison._

_Again._

_Like he had two weeks before._

_“Oh, my.”_

_Drake looked up at the gasp, seeing Binkie standing beside him, her hand to her beak._

_“Is there a problem, Binkie?” Drake asked._

_“Of course there’s a problem!” Binkie exclaimed. “Don’t you see how high Gosalyn is in that tree? Why, she might fall!”_

_“Launchpad is literally standing right there,” Drake said. “She wouldn’t fall far. Besides, she’s climbed that tree loads of times.”_

_She had to. Because she and Launchpad got a lot of things stuck up in that tree._

_“But it’s just so dangerous!” Binkie insisted. “Drake, you go tell her to get down this instant!”_

_“Binkie, she is fine,” Drake sighed. “The tree is healthy, the branch sturdy, Launchpad is right there, and she’s not even that high up.”_

_Drake watched as her expression went from concerned to condescending._

_“Of course you would think that,” She said._

_Drake frowned. “And what exactly does that mean?”_

_Binkie just gave him a look, one he was all too familiar with growing-up. “Because you’re not really a parent. You don’t have the instincts that come with having your own child.”_

_Drake rose to his feet, fire in his veins._

_“I am a parent,” He snapped. “I am Gosalyn’s father. She is my child. Beginning and end of story!”_

_Binkie took a pointed look over towards Launchpad and Gosalyn, before returning that same condescending gaze towards Drake and said, “I suppose it is for you.”_

_Somehow, she managed to walk away without someone having to pry Drake’s hands from around her throat._

*****

“And so we’ve been here ever since,” Gosalyn said. “So that Dad didn’t murder her.”

“You should have let him,” Louie said before taking a long drink of soda.

“Louie!” Webby gasped.

“What? This lady sounds crazy and horrible!” Louie said defensively. “And Drake and Gosalyn have totally been her victims for the last week. It’d be justified.”

“I don’t think a court of law would agree,” Huey said.

“Okay, but,” Dewey said. “If you hate your neighbors so much, why don’t you just… move?”

“For starters, because I was there first!” Drake said. “And leaving is cowardly. I won’t let them think they’ve won anything! And they won’t ‘win’! I won’t let them!”

“Well, is sitting here playing video games helping at all?” Webby asked.

“Considerably,” Drake said. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed, and Drake sighed, pausing the game and setting the controller on the coffee table before stretching his arms above his head. “And now it’s time for my other favorite way to channel some aggression: on law-breakers and criminals.” He leapt to his feet, put his hands on his hips and declared, “Launchpad, it’s time to get dangerous!”

“Oh yeah!” Launchpad cheered, following Drake out of the room.

“I’m pretty sure that Drake is avoiding his problems,” Huey said.

“What was your first clue?” Gosalyn asked dryly as she picked up the discarded controller.

*****

The best part about being Darkwing Duck was that no one could tell him what to do.

No Binkie criticizing his parenting and cleaning and cooking decisions. No Herb shoving him aside to condescendingly teach him how to properly use the grill or make home repairs.

No Muddlefoots in general.

Because he wasn’t Drake Mallard, he was _Darkwing Duck_.

“So what do you think it’ll be tonight?” Darkwing said as he pulled over into a parking spot on the Ratcatcher, Pilot in the sidecar. “Smugglers? Car thieves? Muggers? Personally, I could go for counterfeiters. Art forgers, if we’re really lucky.”

“Well, it’s nearly the middle of the month and none of the Beagle Boys have robbed a bank yet,” Pilot said, leaving his helmet in the sidecar. “So I’d say we’re probably due for that soon.”

“Ah, yes, a bank robbery,” Darkwing Duck said, replacing his helmet with his hat. “An oldie but a goodie. A classic crime for certain. First International Bank of Duckburg’s just down the street. We’ll walk there and scope it out, see if we see—”

He cut himself off at feeling a tug on his cape.

Darkwing looked down to see a small girl with her hair in dark curly pigtails, staring up at him.

“Excuse me, mister,” She said. “But are you Darkwing Duck?”

Darkwing beamed. Now this was just the ego boost he needed.

“I am the one and only Darkwing Duck!” He proclaimed proudly. “And who are you, young lady?”

Her sweet smile grew as she said, “Gonna be rich with the reward money!”

Darkwing’s grin dropped, his brow furrowing. “The what?”

The little girl cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “IT’S DARKWING DUCK!”

Suddenly, Darkwing was surrounded by an angry mob, tearing at his uniform and feathers, shoving him and grabbing him.

“Hey, stop, hang on, what the—” Darkwing exclaimed, trying to get himself out. “PILOT! OW!”

“Hang on, DW!” Pilot exclaimed, trying to reach him. “Ow!”

Finally the mob dissipated with the sound of several long, loud whistle blasts from a police officer.

From where he sat on the ground, Darkwing had stars dancing in his vision.

“One at a time,” He muttered. “Everyone can get an autograph and a photo…”

“But I get the reward money!” The little girl crowed. “’Cause I saw him first!”

Darkwing shook his head and his eyes widened as he saw a pair of silver handcuffs around his wrists.

“What the—?” He muttered, looking up at a smug looking police officer. “Hey, what’s the big idea?”

“Darkwing Duck,” The officer said, hauling Darkwing to his feet. “You are under arrest.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m telling you, Chief Grizzlikof, I’m innocent!” Darkwing insisted from his jail cell, his hands wrapped around the bars.

“Yeah, punk, you’re not the first perp I’ve put behind bars that has said that,” Snapped the large brown bear who was Duckburg’s Chief of Police.

Darkwing scowled; Chief Grizzlikof had made it abundantly clear that he did not approve of either Darkwing or Gizmoduck as superheroes in his city. More accurately, as Fenton’s mom had bluntly told them, Grizzlikof didn’t like the implication that his cops weren’t good enough to protect the city and they needed the interference of two vigilante civilians, one in a glorified trash can and the other in a cheap cape and thrift store hat (Grizzlikof’s words, not M’ma’s, she had quickly added).

Needless to say, Grizzlikof looked way too happy to see Darkwing behind bars.

“Chief, this has to be a mistake,” Darkwing said. “I don’t even know why there was a warrant out for me! What crimes did I commit and what proof do you have that I did it?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, boy,” Grizzlikof snarled, poking Darkwing in the chest between the bars. “Are you, or are you not, the terror that flaps in the night?”

“Yeah?” Darkwing said, confused. “It’s literally one of my catchphrases.”

“And are you, or are you not, the one and only Darkwing Duck?”

“Of course I am!” Darkwing sputtered.

Grizzlikof smirked. “Then that’s the confession we—and the judge—need to lock you up for good.”

“Not so fast there!” Called a thick, angry Scottish brogue.

Darkwing breathed a sigh of relief as the cavalry arrived, Scrooge McDuck in the lead, followed closely by Launchpad, Gizmoduck, Captain Sabrewing, and Detective Cabrera.

“Chief, with all due respect, you are making a terrible mistake,” Captain Sabrewing said.

“Yeah, Darkwing didn’t do it!” Launchpad said with clear conviction. Then he whispered to Detective Cabrera, “Uh, what exactly did he not do again?”

“There have been a string of robberies over the last several nights,” Detective Cabrera said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Both in personal residences and stores—to include, as of last night, in the Duckburg Galleria. Jewelry—specifically gold necklaces—have been the only items stolen from each location.”

“And why weren’t Darkwing nor I called in about these?” Gizmoduck asked.

“You’re superheroes, you fight villains. Real detectives do actual crime solving,” Grizzlikof snapped. “Especially when one of you so-called heroes is the prime suspect. And the other could easily have an accomplice.”

Both Darkwing and Gizmoduck bristled at that, but Detective Cabrera actually growled.

“What proof is there that Darkwing could have been involved?” Scrooge demanded.

“Four witnesses—three from two of the home invasions, one from a jewelry store robbery—cite seeing a duck of Darkwing’s height wearing a cape, mask and hat, all matching Darkwing’s costume, and all cited that he used smoke bombs to mask his location within the crime scene,” Grizzlikof said. “We also have footage from four different security cameras that match the witness description. And, last night, we got two witnesses—security guards at Duckburg Galleria—who heard this thief speak for the first time, as he declared himself to not only be the terror that flaps in the night but also, and I quote, ‘The one and only Darkwing Duck’. Therefore, we have plenty of information to keep Mr. Darkwing here behind bars for a very long time.”

Grizzlikof looked incredibly smug.

“What time was this robbery at the Galleria?” Scrooge asked, leaning on his cane, his eyes narrowed.

“Quarter till midnight,” Grizzlikof answered promptly.

Scrooge stood taller and grinned. “Chief Grizzlikof, I am willing to stake my entire fortune on my oath that Darkwing Duck could not have possibly been your thief.”

“Because Scrooge McDuck recognizes the integrity, the honor, the loyalty, the—” Darkwing started but was cut off by Scrooge saying, a bit awkwardly,

“Er, lad, actually I was going to say it’s because I can vouch for your alibi. Because you were at my house, playing _Towers and Trolls_ with my nieces and nephews, along with both Gizmoduck and Pilot here.”

“Oh,” Darkwing said, cheeks reddening. “Well, yeah, there is that…” To Grizzlikof, he added lamely, “I’m, uh, the Tower Taskmaster.”

“Anyways, I’ve got two current and one former Junior Woodchucks in that group who would be willing to swear on a JWG—whatever the devil that is—that Darkwing Duck was present for this session,” Scrooge said.

“A judge isn’t going to accept the testimony of Junior Woodchucks!” Grizzlikof snapped.

“What about the richest duck in the world?” Scrooge asked.

“Or a police captain and his team who have worked with Darkwing Duck on multiple occasions and can vouch for his character?” Captain Sabrewing added.

“Or,” Darkwing said, having an idea. “You let me find the real crook? The imposter Darkwing?”

“You can’t do that from this jail cell,” Grizzlikof informed him sharply.

To everyone’s surprise, Scrooge reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “To further show my support for Darkwing and my staunch belief in his innocence, I will pay his bail. If you want to find your real criminal, especially one claiming to be Darkwing Duck, then there is no one better than this lad here.”

Grizzlikof scowled and considered.

“On several conditions,” He said. “First, Gizmoduck and Darkwing have no communication until the culprit is caught. No team-ups.”

Darkwing and Gizmoduck exchanged a glance, then nodded.

“We can agree to that.” Gizmoduck said.

“Second, Darkwing will not interject himself into any scenario in crime-fighting, crime-solving, or any other dealings with criminals unless and until he has been completely cleared of all charges.”

Darkwing frowned. “Not preferable, but understandable.”

“Third,” Grizzlikof continued. “Darkwing can have copies of all witness statements, footage and other non-tangible evidence, but no originals, for his investigation to ensure no tampering. Fourth, Darkwing receives no contact with anyone associated with Duckburg police. Fifth, there cannot be any help from McDuck Enterprises staff either.”

“We can adhere to your stipulation,” Captain Sabrewing said.

“That is doable,” Scrooge said, nodding.

Grizzlikof narrowed his eyes, then suddenly smirked. “Oh. And one last thing… Mr. McQuack, AKA Pilot? You cannot help Darkwing Duck either.”

“What?” Darkwing yelled as Launchpad said, “Buh?”

“But we’re partners!” Darkwing said, spluttering slightly. “A team.”

“Exactly,” Grizzlikof said, folding his arms behind his back. “And until we’re certain that Mr. McQuack is also not involved in these criminal dealings as your partner in crime, you two will remain apart.”

Darkwing felt his heart sink.

He was completely without help…

Still, he grit his teeth and said, “Fine. I accept your conditions. Now can I please get out of here?”

“Just as soon as Mr. McDuck pays your bail,” Grizzlikof said, still sounding smug.

“Yes, yes,” Scrooge said, opening up his wallet. “Now, how much is it?”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars.” Grizzlikof responded.

Scrooge’s eyes went wide and he exclaimed, “How much!?!?”

“Twenty-five thousand,” Grizzlikof repeated.

“And yer accusing this lad of robbery?” Scrooge demanded. “This is preposterous! That is obscene!”

“Take it or leave it,” Grizzlikof responded.

Scrooge narrowed his eyes and growled then said, “Two hundred.”

“Twenty-five thousand.” Grizzlikof said.

“Five hundred!”

“Twenty-five thousand!”

“Five hundred and a really shiny dime!”

“Er, Mr. McDuck, how about you and I go talk about this with the person who actually handles the bail money?” Gizmoduck said, grabbing the cheap and angry Scotsman out of the jail.

Grizzlikof grumbled under his breath and followed.

Captain Sabrewing sighed and pulled out a key, unlocking Darkwing’s cell. “I will go ensure that Mr. McDuck does actually pay your bail and does not attempt to haggle too much.”

He and Detective Cabrera walked out of the holding area and Darkwing stepped out from the cell, breathing a sigh of relief.

Darkwing and Launchpad stood alone and in silence.

“I had to accept his terms,” Darkwing said a bit numbly.

“I know,” Launchpad said. “I just… This is wrong. In so many ways. You’re a hero. Everyone knows you’re a hero.”

“Now I need to prove it. Again,” Darkwing grumbled. “How did I miss this? How did everyone in Duckburg know about me being a so-called criminal and I didn’t?”

“When I called Mr. McD, it was all over the news and social media,” Launchpad explained. “We didn’t notice, because we were—”

“—Too busy playing video games,” Darkwing finished. “Another reason to hate the Muddlefoots…” Okay, maybe he couldn’t blame that too much on them… Darkwing straightened his shoulders and declared, “I’m going to solve this. On my own, apparently. But I’m going to clear my name and we’ll be back at it, partners in crime fighting, in no time.”

“Of course you will,” Launchpad said, putting an arm around Darkwing’s shoulders. “You’re Darkwing Duck! Daring duck of mystery, champion of right! You always get back up and fight for what’s right!”

“Exactly,” Darkwing said. “I’m going to go get that evidence and take it home. Get started first thing in the morning.”

Launchpad glanced around and lowered his voice, cupping a hand to hide his beak in case anyone can read lips. “Think we can get around this last condition of the Chief’s when you’re incognito?”

“I don’t know,” Darkwing admitted. “Grizzlikof is going to be watching you, and Gizmoduck too. Especially since he knows you’re Pilot.”

“Yeah, probably needed a better disguise…” Launchpad admitted. Which Darkwing agreed with. Considering Launchpad’s alter-ego as Pilot pretty much just wore an aviator’s hat instead of his usual ball cap, and it wasn’t too infrequent occurrence for people around Duckburg to greet Launchpad by name while they were out on patrol.

“We’ll figure something out,” Darkwing told him. “Come on, I want to get out of here.”

*****

Given a memory drive with security footage and witness transcripts, Darkwing got his Ratcatcher from the impound lot and headed home, trying not to be too angry with the night’s events.

First he got attacked by a mob. Then he was arrested for crimes he didn’t commit. And then when Scrooge McDuck finally—and painfully—handed over enough bail money and he could leave the police department, he couldn’t even properly say good-bye to his boyfriend. Given that Darkwing Duck didn’t have a boyfriend. Launchpad McQuack did. And he was most definitely not Darkwing Duck, no sir.

Darkwing pulled the Ratcatcher into the garage and covered it with an old, paint-stained cloth, sighing as he entered the darkened house.

“Gos?” He called as he closed the garage door behind him.

“Living room!” She called back.

“You should be in bed,” Darkwing called as he made his way there.

“Yeah, and apparently you should be locked up with the key thrown away,” Gosalyn retorted. She sat on the couch, her legs folded like a butterfly, the television remote resting on her knee.

Darkwing slumped onto the couch beside her, and she turned up the volume as the news report covered all of the same information Detective Cabrera and Chief Grizzlikof had back at the police station. The two news anchors did not hesitate to roast Darkwing.

“Aw, come on!” Darkwing yelled, dramatically gesturing to the television when it went to commercial, the anchors hinting that when they came back they would have more news about the “dastardly Darkwing Duck”. “I was just finally starting to get good publicity! Roxanne Featherly actually called me by name last week instead of ‘purple weirdo’ for the first time!”

“So it’s all true?” Gosalyn asked.

“All of the evidence is, but obviously I’m not the real felon,” Darkwing said, slumping back onto the couch again.

“I know that,” Gosalyn told him. “I know you’re innocent, Dad. So. How did you get out of jail?”

Darkwing explained the story, and Grizzlikof’s conditions.

“No Launchpad!” Gosalyn exclaimed, leaping to her feet, bouncing the couch slightly. “For real?”

“For real,” Darkwing confirmed. “Looks like I’m on my own.”

Which was concerning, given how him being on his own at the beginning of his career as Darkwing Duck was an epic failure.

He wondered if Grizzlikof was aware of that.

Darkwing grabbed the remote and turned off the television, standing up. “But for now, it’s time for bed. Way, way, way beyond time for bed, actually.”

“Aw, come on,” Gosalyn groaned. “Five more minutes?”

“You had five more minutes two hours ago.”

“So five more won’t hurt?”

Darkwing put his hands on his hips, arching an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Gosalyn said, a wicked gleam in her eye. “You’ve got to catch me first!”

“Oh, you little…” Darkwing grumbled as Gosalyn jumped off the couch, running around the living room, Darkwing on her tail. “I’m going to get you!”

“No you won’t!” Gosalyn giggled as she ducked behind the armchair. Darkwing dove after her, grabbing hold of her ankles.

She was still giggling as Darkwing stood up with her, Gosalyn hanging upside down.

“Playtime’s over, missy!” Darkwing demanded.

“Oh yeah?” Gosalyn said, her eyes still gleaming as she wiggled her fingers at him.

Darkwing’s eyes widened as he took a step back, though that did no good as he was holding her. “Oh, no. Oh no you don’t. Gosalyn, don’t you dare—”

The rest of his sentence was lost in laughter as her fingers made contact with his torso, tickling him. He nearly doubled over from laughing so hard. “Stop! Stop!”

“You stop first!” Gosalyn laughed.

Darkwing forced himself to stand up straight and, to Gosalyn’s surprise, he tossed her in the air. She let out a yelp as Darkwing caught her again, twisting her so that he was holding her under the armpits.

“I win,” He told her. “Now, c’mon, little miss, and—”

There was a scream and Darkwing jolted as he felt something hit his head.

“DROP MY NIECE THIS INSTANT, YOU HOODLUM!”

Darkwing dropped Gosalyn, who landed with an ‘ooph’ on the floor. Darkwing, however, was left to fend off an enraged Binkie, wearing curlers and a fluffy robe and wielding a broom.

Herb, wearing pajamas and a nightcap, swooped in and grabbed Gosalyn off the floor, yelling, “Don’t worry, Gosalyn! The police are on their way! We’ll get this nasty bad guy locked up for good and he’ll never bother you again!”

Horror flooded through Darkwing and he cursed his stupidity.

He was being attacked—in his own house—because the general public didn’t know he had been released from jail on decent terms. He was still a wanted criminal. He was still wearing his costume, even though that was practically a neon sign saying ‘Look at me!’.

Grizzlikof would gleefully put him behind bars again, all of their previous discussion and conditions out the window, and Darkwing couldn’t even defend himself by saying that he was in his own house, with his own daughter, because that would give away his secret identity of Drake Mallard.

So he did the only logical thing he could think of.

Which was bolt out the open front door.

*****

Drake Mallard arrived back home with police cars in his driveway, Binkie serving the officers coffee and cookies, Gosalyn seated on the couch with wide-eyes, not sure what to say or do. She looked incredibly relieved to see him.

“Dad!” Gosalyn cried out, rushing over to hug him. Drake returned the embrace.

“What’s going on?” Drake demanded, even though he knew everything that had happened.

“It appears that Darkwing Duck was here, trying to abduct your daughter, Mr. Mallard,” One of the officers—one Drake wasn’t familiar with—said. He wasn’t part of Captain Sabrewing’s squad, that was for certain.

“Which would never have happened if Gosalyn wasn’t here, alone!” Binkie chided Drake.

“I had to work late,” Drake said, his hands tightening around Gosalyn. “Gos and I had been texting… The doors were locked, I was on my way home—”

“The door was not locked, or else Herb and I couldn’t have gotten in,” Binkie said shrilly. “And you’re lucky we did! We fought off that horrendous Darkwing Duck! And you were nowhere to be seen!”

“Yes, thank you,” Drake said, trying not to say it through gritted teeth—and the headache that was forming right where that broom had hit his head.

Binkie huffed and looked at the officers, saying, “As I was saying, I really think that you need to get child protective services involved…”

Gosalyn’s grip on Drake tightened and Drake’s eyes were blazing with fury as he put a hand on her head protectively.

Gosalyn had already been in child protective services once in her life. Drake swore it would never happen again.

“And as I told you, ma’am, we disagree,” The officer responded, instantly becoming Drake’s favorite adult in the room. “There is no sign of abuse or neglect. CPS won’t take her just because she nearly escaped being kidnapped. And I’m sure Miss Mallard will now be more careful checking the locks when she’s left home, and feel safe knowing that she has her aunt and uncle right next door if she doesn’t feel safe while alone here or if Mr. Mallard has to work late.”

It felt like forever for the officers to leave, and an eternity to get Binkie to rejoin Herb at home with her boys. But finally, Drake and Gosalyn had their house to themselves again.

“Are you okay?” Gosalyn asked softly as Drake locked the doors behind Binkie.

“I should be asking you that question,” Drake responded.

“I’m not the one who got hit upside the head with a broom.”

“I’ve been hit with worse.”

Gosalyn didn’t respond to that. Drake sighed.

“I’m fine, Gos. And you?”

“Yeah,” Gosalyn said, though she didn’t sound confident.

“Let’s just go to bed,” Drake said, herding her towards the stairs.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Gosalyn asked.

“Of course,” Drake said.

He was glad she asked. Because after this evening, he wanted her close.

*****

Jim Starling grumbled and cursed as he tried to pry the backing off yet another jeweled pendant. This one had to fit…

He paused, though, when he heard the news reporter on the radio say,

_“—manhunt once again for the rogue vigilante known as Darkwing Duck. Sources say that he escaped the Duckburg police station tonight, and was sighted an hour ago attempting to abduct a little girl from her home. The girl is safe, and Darkwing escaped, though there is no indication why he deviated from his typical behavior in robbing homes and businesses of valuable jewelry. Chief Grizzlikof warns the public that Darkwing Duck is armed and highly dangerous_.”

Jim Starling smirked.

The sooner that hack was behind bars, the better. So that the genuine Darkwing Duck could retake center stage, the spotlight his alone.

Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out the Blood Ruby, which glinted in the low light.

“Soon,” He crooned to the stone. “Soon, I’ll have you fitted perfectly. You may have once graced the crown of a king. But where you truly belong is around the neck of a queen…”


	3. Chapter 3

“You’ll be gone for how long?” Drake asked as he sat in Scrooge’s office, his heart sinking some.

First the previous night’s misadventures, then learning that Grizzlikof had rather gleefully taken back his orders to let Darkwing go and now there was another manhunt for him, meaning that Drake would have to do most of his investigating as Drake Mallard instead of Darkwing Duck, and now this. Scrooge whisking away Launchpad to who-knows-where?

“Just for a couple of days, let this blow over a bit, and ensure that Grizzlikof doesn’t think you’re getting any help from me or Launchpad,” Scrooge explained.

“Which stinks, because I’d love to help you take down Negaduck,” Launchpad said, pouting slightly.

Scrooge frowned. “I’m sorry, who is ‘Negaduck’?”

Launchpad’s pout disappeared and he went into info-dumping mode. “Alright, so at the end of the last _Darkwing Duck_ episode, Darkwing comes face to face with a villain setting bombs off all over the city. He takes off the mask and it’s him! Another Darkwing! And then, dun, dun, dun! To be continued… But… It never was! The show got canceled after that. And since the other Darkwing never got explained with the cancellation of the show, and the other Darkwing never got a name within the show, the fandom started calling that other Darkwing ‘Negaduck’ in fanfiction and stuff. ‘Nega’, like ‘negative’. Because this was the bad Darkwing. Get it?”

“I see,” Scrooge said, a hint of wariness in his voice that said that he really did not see. “Negaduck… Has a nice ring to it now. A good, proper name for a villainous enemy… Now all he needs is a twirly mustache and you’ve got a proper antagonist.” He looked back at Drake sitting in the chair in front of him. “Now, I cannot help you. Nor can anyone at McDuck Enterprises help you.”

“Right,” Drake said, nodding.

“However,” Scrooge said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card. “I can recommend another company that may prove to be helpful. An elite team that is also comprised of folks that are tougher than the toughies, smarter than the smarties, and sharper than the sharpies. I think you’ll find them top-notch.”

Drake accepted the card and studied it. His brow furrowed. “Is this for real?”

“Very much for real,” Scrooge said, nodding. “In fact, their CEO is expecting you any moment now. But first.” He stood up and made his way out of the room. “I’ll give you lads a moment of privacy.”

He was out the door and neither Drake nor Launchpad had had a chance to move when Scrooge suddenly stuck his head back into the room, narrowing his eyes at the both of them.

“And, lads? Do anything to defile my office, and it shall be the last thing ye ever do.”

With that, he closed the door behind him on Drake and Launchpad’s sputtering.

“So, what happened exactly last night?” Launchpad asked, trying to defuse the awkwardness left behind by their boss.

Drake sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Well, let’s just say Honker’s position as favorite nephew is in peril. He’s the one who saw me from his window last night, me on the Ratcatcher last night and going up to the house. He got his parents awake, and finally convinced them to go over and check on Gosalyn, which they did… right as she and I were tussling over bedtime, which they could see from the front window. It was just us playing around, but to Binkie and Herb who just saw Gos being grabbed by a supposedly dangerous criminal… You can guess how that went.”

“As nosy as Binkie is, she’ll eventually figure out you’re Darkwing Duck,” Launchpad observed.

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Drake admitted. “I guess it won’t matter, if I can’t clear my name. Well, my other name. Otherwise I’ll have to give it up for good.”

“It won’t come to that,” Launchpad told him. “You’ll figure it out, DW. You always do.”

“Thanks, babe,” Drake said, wrapping his arms around Launchpad’s waist. “So. Do I get even a bit of a hint about where Mr. McDuck plans for you two to go?”

“Nope. But only because I don’t know yet either.”

Drake frowned and looked up at Launchpad, resting his chin on Launchpad’s chest. “LP?”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you going to be the one who, you know, flies you two there?”

“Yep. It’ll be a fun surprise when we land! Wonder if I should help Mr. McD out with the surprise thing by wearing a blindfold…”

“…Please don’t.”

“…Okay.”

*****

“Drake Mallard,” Louie said from where he sat behind his desk, elbows on the desktop, his fingertips touching together, a smirk on his face. “Welcome to Louie Incorporated. I am the CEO, Louie Duck. Now meet my associates: Huey Duck.”

“Greetings!” Huey said with a wave.

“Dewey Duck.”

“Sup?” Dewey said, grinning.

“The girl who needs no introduction.”

“HI I’M WEBBY!” Webby yelled, sticking out her hand for Drake to shake.

“And our newest partner, Gosalyn Mallard.”

“Hey, Dad.” Gosalyn said, smirking.

“Now then,” Louie said grandly. “I call this board meeting to order. I believe we have new business to discuss. Drake Mallard, you make take the floor.”

“Uh, hi,” Drake said from where he sat in a too-small chair in the triplets’ bedroom, his knees practically to his chest. Was this how Launchpad felt all the time? He cleared his throat. “So. You are all aware that someone is impersonating me and claiming to be Darkwing Duck while committing crimes.”

“This other Darkwing was only stealing gold necklaces, right?” Huey asked. He frowned, then asked, “What can we call this bad guy in the meantime?”

“Negaduck is what Launchpad and I are referring to him as,” Drake told him.

Dewey frowned. “Like the other Darkwing from the last episode?”

“The very same,” Drake confirmed. “You know a lot about _Darkwing Duck_ lore…”

Dewey shrugged. “I hang out with Launchpad all the time. You learn a thing or two.”

“So this Negaduck is running around proclaiming to be the real Darkwing Duck.” Louie said, tapping his fingers together. “Is there anything else unusual about Negaduck’s actions? Something we might be able to figure out a motive?”

“Nothing other than ruining my reputation comes to mind.” Drake responded. He held up the memory drive he had been given the night before. “I’ve got security camera footage here, and print-outs of all the witness statements, as well as every place that was hit.”

“I’ll get the camera footage up,” Dewey said, holding out his hand for the drive. Drake passed it over. “We can start there.”

They crowded around the laptop, watching each clip of the footage that they had been given.

“Hmm,” Webby said after they watched all the clips through. “It’s hard to really get a lot of details since the cameras are on night mode. It’s all dark, so you can’t pick out colors or anything.”

“Plus all the smoke and dust that he brings aren’t helping,” Gosalyn said.

“And the hat and mask further hide facial features or other ways of figuring out an identity,” Huey said. “Because if you’re just going by this, it does look like Drake.”

“Alright, then let’s go ahead and start thinking of some theories based off what we do and do not know,” Louie said.

“We know that this Negaduck guy looks like Drake. As far as we can tell, pretty much exactly like Drake,” Dewey said. “Except he’s totally evil. I say put on the board that Gyro’s been working on his cloning projects again, and maybe accidentally—or on purpose—cloned Drake when he was Darkwing, and the clone came out evil.”

“It’d definitely have to be accidentally,” Huey said as he wrote the theory on the dry-erase board. “Considering Fenton once told me that Gyro has a pretty strict criteria list for whoever gets subjected to his cloning.”

“Let me guess,” Drake said. “And Gyro is the only one who fits all of those criteria.”

“Exactly,” Huey said, pointing at Drake with the marker for emphasis.

“Dewey, can you play that third video again?” Webby asked. Dewey did so, and she hummed for a moment, tapping her chin. “The costume has some differences. They’re subtle, but you can see them in that last frame. Can you rewind and freeze it?”

Dewey did as asked and they all studied the frame. Though Negaduck’s face was still obscured by his mask, and his head largely by his hat, it was a good frame to see the rest of the costume.

“He’s not wearing gloves,” Drake observed. “And the jacket is different…” Then his brow furrowed. “Huh. Dewey, can you do a quick internet search?”

“Sure,” Dewey said. “What am I searching for?”

“ _Darkwing Duck_ , the original show,” Drake said. “If you can find a picture of Jim Starling wearing the original costume, that’d be perfect.”

“Like this one?” Dewey said, clicking on an image.

“Exactly,” Drake said. He pointed at the screen. “Negaduck’s costume looks a lot more like Jim Starling’s, rather than mine.”

“Huh, yours is different from that of the show,” Gosalyn said, frowning. “Why didn’t I notice before?”

“And why are they different?” Louie asked. “No offense, Drake, but knowing how much of a nerd you are about the show, I would have thought you’d make an exact replica, down to the last stitch.”

“None taken, and actually the differences weren’t exactly my idea,” Drake responded. “Even though I didn’t get a say, I liked the changes.”

“Who made your costume, then? Or, I guess I should say, your first costume?” Gosalyn asked, knowing that Darkwing had gone through several destroyed costumes over the last several months.

Dewey suddenly froze, then turned his head towards Drake, his expression incredulous. “Whoa, wait, you haven’t told Gosalyn? The coolest thing you ever did, and you haven’t told her?”

Gosalyn bristled at that as she looked at her father. “Told Gosalyn what?”

“It’s the coolest thing I simultaneously did and didn’t do, so no, not really,” Drake responded to Dewey. “And I fight crime for a living, so isn’t that more cool?”

“Uh, no?” Dewey said, staring at Drake like it was obvious.

“What the heck are you two talking about?” Louie asked.

“Drake was in a movie!” Dewey explained. “A _Darkwing Duck_ movie! It’s how he and Launchpad met!”

“I thought you two met when Launchpad passed out on you at a Jim Starling autograph signing at the opening of that sofa store downtown,” Huey said.

“Well, yes, we did meet that way,” Drake said. “Then we met again at your uncle’s movie studio—”

“UNCLE SCROOGE HAS A MOVIE STUDIO!?!?” Huey and Louie yelled.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Louie groaned. “Do you know how much money I could make off a movie?”

“Do you know how many film and arts related Junior Woodchuck badges I could have?” Huey demanded.

“Guys, hush, I need to hear more about this Drakepad Meet-Cute,” Webby said, waving her hand at the boys, staring at Drake excitedly with stars in her eyes.

“Basically, the short version of that is, I was the actor playing Darkwing Duck in a reboot movie, Jim Starling—the original Darkwing Duck—didn’t approve of the movie, or, well, me playing Darkwing. Jim Starling recruited Launchpad to help him sabotage me so that he could take over as Darkwing again, Launchpad got himself trapped in my trailer, then tried to lock me in there, then we bonded over our love of the show, and Launchpad said he’d convince Jim Starling to let me have the role and help make the movie great…” Drake heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping. “And, well, then Jim Starling knocked me out, locked me in a closet, I escaped, got my costume on, just in time to stop Jim Starling from murdering the cast and crew of the movie, nearly got killed myself by my childhood hero, and then, you know, watched him get blown up. And, oh yeah, the movie got cancelled as a result, meaning that my big break was also the end of my acting career. Fun times.” He took a deep breath and smiled slightly. “Though it was in the aftermath that Launchpad suggested I actually become a superhero. So, I guess it all worked out. More or less.”

“Geeze,” Gosalyn said, her eyes wide. “That’s, uh…”

“So romantic,” Webby sighed.

“Not the word I would have chosen there, Webs, but okay,” Gosalyn said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Louie said, his eyes wide. He pointed to the screen and the photo of Jim Starling as Darkwing Duck. “You mean this guy is dead?!?!? Like, dead dead?”

“Yes,” Drake confirmed.

“Huey, add to the board a new theory!” Louie exclaimed. “Ghost haunting! People are being haunted by the ghost of Jim Starling!”

“I feel like that the current evidence disproves that, but okay.” Huey said, dutifully writing on the board.

“You were in a movie, huh?” Gosalyn said to Drake.

“Almost in a movie,” Drake corrected. “Since it never was finished. And any of the usable footage got destroyed.”

“Still, that’s cool,” Gosalyn said. Then she glanced at the screen and said, “Hey, Dewey? Could you play the last video again?”

“I can Dewey that,” Dewey said, queuing up the video. They watched it until Gosalyn suddenly pointed at the screen, shouting,

“Pause!”

Dewey did so and Gosalyn grinned, jabbing her finger at the screen.

“Did you see that?” She asked.

“Yeah, Negaduck going through that lady’s jewelry and stealing it,” Webby said.

“No, he threw one aside.” Gosalyn said.

“Maybe it was silver or platinum instead of gold?” Huey suggested.

Gosalyn turned to Drake. “Are there crime scene photos?”

“Should be on the drive,” Drake answered.

Gosalyn took the mouse from Dewey and brought up the photos. She matched the folder to the footage, then clicked through them.

“These were all done with the lights on,” Gosalyn said, then pausing. “Look! That’s the same necklace he tossed!”

She zoomed in and they saw a thin gold chain, dotted with tiny diamonds and pearls and delicate flowers.

“Why would a thief be picky about what he’s stealing?” Gosalyn posed the question to the group.

“For that matter, why is he being particular about gold?” Webby asked. “If he was going to sell them at a pawn shop or whatever, silver, platinum or other types of precious metals would also get him a good deal of money.”

“Not to mention whatever was on it, such as pearls and gemstones,” Drake said. “And only necklaces, too. Not rings or bracelets or earrings.” He grabbed a witness statement and flipped through it. “Huh. Says here, that Negaduck actually stole some of the pieces of her jewelry box that were less valuable, leaving the truly valuable pieces untouched.”

“Something else that was weird about the footage,” Huey said. “Which is actually good for your defense, but not for the clone theory: the thief is right-handed. Drake is left-handed.” He tilted his head. “Do we have a list of each location hit, as well as the time and date?”

“Got that right here,” Drake said, passing it to Huey. “They seem to be random. No pattern or connection. Two houses, then three stores, then another house, then the mall…”

Huey studied the paper, then got up to spin around the white board to show a map of Duckburg. He used magnets to pinpoint the exact location of each theft.

“You’re right, there isn’t a pattern, but we can still use it to track his path, maybe anticipate where he will strike next.” Huey said. “Considering he started in the suburbs and is moving towards Killmotor Hill.”

“Great, so now we can come up with a list of places in a certain area that are potential targets,” Louie said.

“Or, do better than that,” Drake said. “How about we lure Negaduck to one location? We can set a trap, get the cops there, prove once and for all that I’m innocent!”

“We can lure him here to the Mansion!” Dewey suggested.

“Ooh, this’ll be so much fun!” Webby said excitedly. “We can use every trap in my repertoire! To the hardware store!”

“Too bad Lena and Violet went with their dad to go visit their aunt,” Gosalyn said. “Or else we could use magic to reinforce the traps.”

“Uh, speaking of magic, how about we not do it here?” Huey said, raising his hand in the air. “Given how many magical items that can quickly and easily be turned into weapons, even in the hands of someone with zero experience in handling magical items?”

“Yeah, I really don’t feel comfortable with that idea with Mr. McDuck gone, since he’d be the one who knows all of the magical artifacts here the best,” Drake said. “Plus, I’m technically not supposed to be getting help from him. Grizzlikof would definitely use that against me.”

“So then were should we set a trap for Negaduck?” Dewey asked.

To everyone’s surprise, Louie hopped out of his chair and rubbed his hands together.

“I know just the place,” He said. “And this is why I get paid the big bucks, guys.”

*****

“Uh, Louie? Whose house is this?” Drake asked as Louie stood on his toes to ring the doorbell. He glanced around the large house that was somehow larger than the McDuck Manor and the Money Bin combined, complete with a huge tree house.

“Louie,” Huey hissed slightly under his breath. “You didn’t say we were going to Doofus Drake’s house!”

“Because if I told you that, you wouldn’t come,” Louie said, sticking his hands in his hoodie pockets. “And besides, it’s not just Doofus Drake’s house. It’s also the house of my friend, Boyd. You’ll like him. He’s cool. Tried to kill me once. But otherwise he’s, like, super nice. Like, disgustingly nice.”

“Wait, this kid tried to kill you?” Drake questioned.

“Yeah, he tried to use me as a piñata, but that’s water under the bridge,” Louie explained nonchalantly with a shrug.

The door swung open and there was a young gray parrot wearing a red bow tie stood there.

“Louie!” The child said, his smile growing broader. “Have you come to play?”

“Sort of,” Louie said. “Boyd, these are my brothers, Huey and Dewey, and my friends, Drake, Gosalyn and Webby. Guys, this is Boyd.”

“Hi, I’m Boyd! I’m a real boy!” Boyd chirped with a cheery wave.

“You’re a… what now?” Webby said, tilting her head slightly and glancing at the other kids in a shared look of confusion and mild fear.

“Boyd, remember what we talked about?” Louie prompted. “About stating the obvious?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry.” Boyd said, nodding. “So kind of you to visit. Come on in!”

Boyd pulled the door open further and Louie strutted inside.

Drake looked down at the kids, and took notice that Huey, Dewey and Webby looked somewhat uncomfortable, but entered the house. Drake looked down at Gosalyn, who looked up at him questioningly. She shrugged then followed the other kids inside the house.

Drake sighed and followed the kids inside.

“Who, uh, is Doofus Drake?” Gosalyn asked.

“My big brother!” Boyd chirped. “He probably won’t come play with us, though. He got grounded last week and has extra chores.”

“Uh, really?” Dewey asked, sounding surprised and relieved. “Oh, uh, too bad.”

Drake made a mental note to get more information out of the Manor kids when they left. It was unusual to see these seemingly fearless, globe-trotting, adventure-seeking, death-trap defying kids be afraid of anything. Or anyone.

“Anyways,” Louie said. “Boyd, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Sure!” Boyd said, sounding way too chipper. “Anything for my best friend!”

“It’s a really big favor,” Louie reiterated. “Especially since we’re going to need to borrow some of your Gimmemama’s jewelry.”

“Is it for a fancy adult dress up party?” Boyd asked excitedly. He turned to Drake… by twisting his entire torso around, which made Drake jump a foot in the air and backwards with wide-eyes. What the heck was wrong with this child? “I love parties!”

“No, no, no,” Louie said, the only one not freaked out by Boyd’s inhuman twisting of his body. “Boyd, have you heard about how this guy named Darkwing Duck has been robbing people?”

Boyd spun his head back around to nod at Louie.

“But we know Darkwing Duck. He’s a friend of ours, and he’s actually a really good guy. A hero. But someone is impersonating him so that the cops think he’s a bad guy. And the real bad guy is getting away with stealing jewelry and gold and stuff,” Louie explained. “What we want to do is set a trap for the real bad guy here, and lure him here with your Gimmemama’s jewelry. If we can bait him, we know where he’d strike next. And everyone can see that Darkwing is really a good guy. Does that make sense?”

“Oh, that’s so clever!” Boyd said, nodding his head excitedly. “Of course you can use Gimmemama’s jewelry! I’d love to help!”

“You will do no such thing, interloper!”

The yell came from the hallway and from a round duckling around the kids’ age wearing glasses, marching his way into the room and pointing at Boyd with an angry expression.

“But Doofus, our friends need our help!” Boyd said, unfazed with his brother’s fury.

“You have no right to touch anything in this house!” Doofus yelled at Boyd, getting in the other boy’s face. “It’s all mine! Gimmemama left it all for me! Not you, you dirty robot! So don’t even think about touching it!”

“Oof, those are some strong words there, Doofus,” Louie said, also unfazed and looking at his phone with a smirk.

Doofus rounded on him. “Llewellyn Duck. We meet again. I see right through your little con. First you trick my servants into thinking that this… _android_ is even passable for a real boy, let alone their son, then he uses that to steal _my_ inheritance. And now here you are, asking him for ‘help’ by sacrificing Gimmemama’s most precious jewelry… which will ultimately end up in your greedy hands. Which will not happen, for I shall destroy you and your stupid robot minion!”

Drake, Gosalyn, Webby, Huey and Dewey all turned to stare at Boyd, who simply blinked a few times, face blank and a smile on his face.

Boyd was… a robot?

Louie’s smirk grew. “Oh, Doofus, if your Gimmemama had left you with an inheritance of brain cells instead of gold, you still wouldn’t be half as smart as I am. And I think you owe your brother an apology.”

“That walking pile of scrap metal is not my brother!” Doofus yelled in Louie’s face.

“I think,” Louie said again, his smirk continuing to grow as he tapped away on his phone. “That you owe Boyd an apology. But if you’re so certain that everything in this house belongs to you, including Gimmemama’s jewelry, then I thank you in advance for your part in helping me with this plan to prove Darkwing Duck’s innocence.”

“Why would I help you?” Doofus snarled.

Louie simply turned his phone around and pressed ‘play’, all of Doofus’s words since he entered the room being yelled right back into his face. Drake was impressed that the boy been recording the entire encounter, as if anticipating everything.

“Now, Boyd mentioned you happen to be grounded,” Louie said smugly. “It’d be a shame if your parents happened to, I don’t know, hear about how cruel you were just now to your brother, now wouldn’t it? I mean, sucks to be you, but this is a big house and it’s not going to clean itself. That means a lot of extra chores, and it’d take quite a bit of time. Hmm, say, several months’ worth of groundings?”

The angry red of Doofus’s face turned snow white.

Doofus threw back his head and screamed in frustration, a truly horrific noise, then when he was done he put his finger in Louie’s face, snarling, “You win this time, Llewellyn. But you can’t win every time.”

Louie stuck his phone back in his pocket. “But I did this time. And that’s what matters. Now, here’s what I need you two to do.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....
> 
> Sorry for the month and a half long hiatus. Grad school, writers block, and life stuff got in the way.
> 
> But, without further ado, I present Chapter Four of "Double Trouble"!

To their disappointment, the Duckburg News van didn’t arrive. Instead, it was just two people, a prim female white duck wearing a big black bow in her ponytail—“My statement piece,” she later explained—and a tall pig with a multitude of tattoos and piercings who was her cameraman.

“Hi,” The duck said with a wave. “My name is Daisy Duck, and I’m a reporter at Channel Nine. And this is my cameraman, Dave.”

“Hey,” Dave said with a wave as he took his camera equipment out of the back of Daisy’s tiny purple coup car.

“So,” Daisy said, clapping her hands together excitedly. “What’s the scoop?”

Huey approached with his clipboard, all business, ignoring Louie and Gosalyn griping behind him, asking each other where the van was.

“Excuse me, Huey Duck,” He said by way of introduction, tapping his pencil against his clipboard. “But I have a few questions. Namely, can you ensure that our story is broadcasted over the Duckburg News television and radio stations, as well as the online edition?”

Daisy’s eyes glimmered as she smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. Especially since I think what you’ve got is juicy story.”

“I didn’t think a jewelry display would be considered ‘juicy’,” Dewey commented. “Cool, maybe, but not juicy.”

“Oh, no, I’m talking about this jewelry display thing,” Daisy said. “I’m talking about what’s really going on.”

“What?” Huey said, his voice going up an octave as he exchanged a wide-eyed glance with his brothers, Webby and Gosalyn. “There’s nothing going on other than a really cool jewelry display.”

“Oh, save it for Roxanne Featherly,” Daisy said, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m a _real_ reporter. I notice things. Let’s just say, ever since the Shadow War, I’ve been keeping an ear open for a few particular names,” Daisy said. “To be more specific, those of you, Huey Duck, and your brothers—Miss Vanderquack over there, too. The great-nephews of Scrooge McDuck and his honorary niece? Things happen around you kids. And I want to be on the inside of those things. I’ll admit, those at the station don’t necessarily have the same opinion. But they don’t have what I have: the drive to get things done, a passion for investigative journaling, and a relentless pursuit of the truth. And,” She added, a hard gleam in her eye. “The desire to knock that pretentious Roxanne Featherly down a few pegs and finally get my moment in the journalism spotlight!”

When the kids shared a sidelong glance at each other, Daisy coughed awkwardly.

“Uh, sorry,” She said. “I’m… passionate.”

“So we can tell,” Gosalyn commented.

“Right, so, how about you kids show me what I’m working with?” Daisy suggested as Dave came over, hauling his camera gear.

The kids led them inside the manor, where Drake was working with Boyd and Doofus setting up the displays. Drake, upon seeing them, dusted off his hands and stepped over, watching Daisy’s eyes take in everything with a gleam.

“Daisy, this is my dad, Drake Mallard,” Gosalyn introduced.

“And I’m Boyd!” Boyd exclaimed, popping up beside Drake and holding his hand out for Daisy to shake. She offered her hand gladly and didn’t look at all perturbed by how hard he was shaking it.

Doofus retreated into the shadows and hissed.

They all ignored Doofus.

“Lovely to meet you all,” Daisy said. “Now, who exactly is involved in this interview?”

“I am!” Boyd said.

“Great!” Daisy said, pulling out a small notebook and pen. “Now, I’d like to ask you some questions before we really get this interview rolling on camera, just so there’s no surprises.”

“Sure!” Boyd chirped. “Ask me anything!”

“First question,” Daisy said. “What exactly is this?”

Boyd puffed up slightly and flawlessly delivered the lines they had constructed. “You see, our Gimmemama left us an inheritance of all these pretty necklaces, and even if my brother and I wore a necklace a day—or even two necklaces a day—we would probably never wear all of them. And since they are so pretty, we thought it would be nice to share their beauty with everyone by having them on display.”

“And is it free to view these necklaces?”

“Yes, but we do ask for donations to go towards Dimes for Ducklings.”

“And how does this relate to Darkwing Duck?”

Boyd’s smile froze. He turned his wide-eyes towards Louie, who straightened, exchanging glances with the other kids and Drake.

“I don’t know what you mean…” Boyd said.

“Oh, come on,” Daisy said. “All of these necklaces are gold. Gold necklaces are what the person who is supposedly Darkwing Duck is stealing from all over Duckburg.”

“What do you mean by supposedly?” Drake asked, intrigued.

“I mean, I actually investigate as a reporter,” Daisy explained, putting a hand on her hip. “During one of the robbery times, there is proof of Darkwing Duck battling Dr. Fear with Gizmoduck. And there’s a lot of things that don’t add up. Unfortunately, no one at the studio will let me have access to the unedited versions of the tapes that the police let us have access to, and my attempts to get interviews from the victims have been shut down by both the victims and my boss.”

“So you think Darkwing Duck is innocent?” Gosalyn asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

“And I think you do, too. Actually, I know you do. Remember how I said I’ve been keeping an ear and eye on you kids? Well, I happen to know that you were all spotted with him about a month ago when that electricity freak Megavolt tried to blow up the Duckburg arena. Which means, you’re trying to lure the real thief into a trap. Hence why you called me. Or, well, the news station.” Daisy said. “Anyways, I want in.”

“It could help spread the news of Darkwing’s innocence the fastest way possible,” Huey pointed out.

Webby suddenly looked pensive. “You said you never got access to the original tapes.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said. “All of the ones I have had access to were edited. Enlarged, cut for time, that sort of thing.”

“Well, what could you do with the originals?” Webby asked.

“Review for more clues and evidence, for starters,” Daisy said.

“What about editing footage captured on night mode so that you can get more details that can only be seen in the light?” Webby asked.

Daisy glanced over at Dave, who nodded.

“That’s possible,” Dave commented. “I know how to do that.”

“So… if you were to get your hands on original footage, how long would it take you to get that done?” Webby asked.

“Couple of hours maybe, why?” Dave asked.

“Because that will go well with Daisy’s breaking news about Darkwing Duck’s innocence,” Dewey declared.

“Yeah, but that implies that there’s original—” Daisy cut herself off. “Wait, you kids got original footage? How?"

“Technically, we have copies of the original footage. Original copies, if you will. Not tampered with in any way,” Huey explained. “But let’s not go into any further questions on how we obtained those.” Huey glanced around at the assembled team. “All those in favor of bringing Daisy and Dave onto the team?”

It was unanimous.

“Well, then,” Louie said. “Let’s get busy. We’ve got a superhero’s reputation to save.”

*****

With a growl, Jim hurled the necklace at the wall, huffing and snarling.

Another dud. Why did none of these necklaces fit the Blood Ruby?

He was running out of places to steal from. Perhaps he could pawn what he had stolen in St. Canard or Mouseton, commission a jeweler to make something to fit the Blood Ruby…

No, too much of a paper trail. Too many questions.

Then his ears pricked as something caught his attention on the radio playing in the corner.

_“—display of gold necklaces in all of Duckburg. I’m Daisy Duck, live at Drake Manor, and here with Boyd Drake, one of the two owners of all of the necklaces on display. Now, Boyd, tell me about these necklaces.”_

_“They belonged to my Gimmemama, and my brother, Doofus, and I inherited them from her,”_ Responded a young chipper voice. _“As Gimmemamma was so generous with us, with her beautiful collection of jewelry, we wanted to be able to share that beauty with all of Duckburg. It’s free to come and see the jewelry, though we do ask for donations to go towards the Dimes for Ducklings charity.”_

_“Now, Boyd,”_ Daisy the reporter said. _“There is some question as to why you chose to only display the gold necklaces.”_

_“That’s just as our first installment,”_ Boyd responded. “ _We will rotate out the displays to highlight her other pieces. There’s just so many!”_

_“Let me rephrase,”_ Daisy said. _“Aren’t you and your brother worried about your selection?”_

_“Do you refer to Darkwing Duck, Ms. Duck?”_

_“I do, indeed. After all, he has been stealing gold necklaces all over Duckburg, and is currently on the loose.”_

_“We’re not worried at all about Darkwing Duck,”_ Boyd answered, his voice too young and innocent to carry smugness, but Jim could imagine it clearly, making his hackles raise. Kids these days… _“We’re confident in our security. No one, not even Darkwing Duck, could get in here, let alone leave with any of the necklaces. In fact, I’d like to see him try.”_

Jim straightened his shoulders and calmly reached for the dial of the radio, turning it off.

“That,” He said in the silence. “Was a mistake. Never, ever, challenge Darkwing Duck.”

*****

“And that’s it!” Daisy said as Dave shut off the equipment. “Great job, Boyd!”

“Thank you, Ms. Daisy,” Boyd said, beaming.

“Let me get a couple of shots of you with the display cases for the online article,” Dave said, pulling out another camera.

Boyd nodded and happily let Daisy and Dave get whatever they needed.

Meanwhile, Drake and Louie stood back and watched.

“That went really well,” Drake commented. “Great idea, Louie.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Louie said. “We’ve still got to wait until we know for sure that it worked.”

Drake followed Louie’s line of vision, and was only mildly surprised to see that it was trained on the young robot.

“So, uh, Louie, how did you and Boyd meet?” Drake asked casually.

“At Doofus’s birthday party, part of a con with Goldie O’Gilt. Except Mark Beaks was trying to run the same con, using Boyd,” Louie explained. “Then he kind of went haywire and tried to use me as a piñata, but it’s all cool between us now.”

“You two sound like really good friends,” Drake commented.

Louie smiled, small and a bit shy, but happy. “Yeah. We are.”

The front door opened and Donald strode in, carrying four small backpacks on one arm and a picnic basket his other hand.

“Kids,” He called. “I brought your overnight stuff! And Mrs. B sent a whole bunch of sleep-over snacks!”

“Thanks, Uncle Donald!” Huey said as he rushed over, taking his red backpack from his uncle.

“Yeah, thanks for bringing this stuff by, Uncle Donald!” Dewey said as he also retrieved his backpack, grinning as Donald affectionately ruffled his hair.

“No problem,” Donald said. “Happy to—”

He cut himself off, his face turning red as he caught sight of Daisy, who was also staring at him.

Daisy, blushing lightly, smiled and reached up to touch her bow before walking over to Donald. “Hi,” She said. “I’m Daisy Duck. Reporter for Duckburg News.”

“Donald Duck,” Donald responded. “Nice to meet you, Miss.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Daisy said, batting her eyelashes some.

Then they just… stood there. Staring at each other.

“Uh, are they okay?” Webby asked.

“Louie,” Boyd whispered. “Is your Uncle broken? Do you need me to get the rice?”

“Rice, no. Broken… maybe?” Louie said, his brow furrowed as he glanced at his brothers, who had identical ‘what the heck?’ looks on their faces.

Gosalyn, however, smirked.

“I know that look,” She whispered to Drake in a sing-song tone.

“Do you now?” Drake whispered back.

“Yup, ‘cause it’s the same look you had on your face last week when Launchpad got a shower at our place and wasn’t wearing a shirt.”

Drake felt heat rush to his cheeks, spluttering somewhat as Gosalyn continued to smirk at him, looking way too smug for her own good.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” Donald said quickly, sweat rolling down his face. “Nice to meet you, bye!”

With that, he dashed out of the house, leaving the front door open behind him.

Daisy blinked a few times before clearing her throat, her cheeks still tinged pink. But she had a faint smile as she said, “Well, time to get back to work, I guess.”

Daisy’s steps seemed much lighter than before.

*****

Darkwing Duck stashed the Ratcatcher behind a bush and knocked on the door to the Drake Mansion. Boyd opened the door.

“Greetings, Mr. Darkwing!” He greeted. “Louie said we should be expecting you. I’m Boyd!”

“Nice to meet you,” Darkwing said. “Thanks for letting us use your home and your grandmother’s jewelry to capture the real thief.”

“Happy to help!” Boyd declared as he led Darkwing up the stairs to the second floor gallery, where the kids, Daisy and Dave had set up for the night with security cameras, trapping equipment, and more. “I love helping!”

“Hello,” Daisy said, stepping forward. “Daisy Duck, for Duckburg News. And this is Dave, my cameraman.”

“Yo!” Dave called from where he sat with a laptop on his lap.

“Nice to meet you both,” Darkwing said.

“And you came just in time,” Huey declared. “Dave just finished adjusting the security camera footage so we can see what the thief looks like in natural light.”

They all crowded around Dave, who hit the play button.

They watched as the on-screen wall broke, smoke going everywhere, and the fake Darkwing entered.

There they saw the most glaring difference between the two Darkwings.

The fake’s suit jacket was yellow with black buttons, along with a matching black cape and mask, while his hat was a dark red with a black band.

“Okay, seriously, how could anyone mistake this guy for Darkwing Duck?” Dewey demanded.

“That is not a shade of yellow I would be caught dead in,” Darkwing said with clear disgust. “Does not go well with my complexion. Frankly, I’m insulted that anyone would think I was wearing that color.”

“But it was too dark and smoky for anyone to be able to tell a real difference,” Webby pointed out.

“We’ll need to catch the real thief with the lights on,” Dave said, closing the laptop. “Because I don’t want anyone to accuse us of tampering with video if he’s caught with the camera on night-vision mode.”

“I’m connected to the house’s wiring,” Boyd spoke up. “I can control the lights easily.”

“Uh, what do you mean by you’re connected to the house’s wiring?” Daisy asked, her brow furrowing.

“It means,” Louie said, putting an arm around Boyd’s shoulders. “Now we just have to wait.”

*****

This, Jim thought, was all too easy.

No guards or dogs. No security system. A gate easily climbed. Not a single light on in the house. Not even a silent alarm.

He literally walked into the Drake Manor.

“That’ll teach you to be overconfident, you little rugrat,” Jim muttered to himself as he walked amongst the cases of gold necklaces.

So many to choose from.

And he had all night.

He could be as choosy as he wished.

He wandered for a few moments, inspecting and disregarding and mentally measuring.

And then he saw it.

The one.

Finally, he found the one.

An elegant but sturdy gold chain, with a sapphire hanging from the gold-backed pendant.

The sapphire was the same size as the Blood Ruby.

He had found it.

He lifted the glass case, throwing it aside with a tremendous crash. He picked up the necklace with both hands, holding it reverently.

Then, to his horror, the lights turned on, nearly blinding him with how sudden it was. He hissed, shielding his eyes.

Of course it was too easy, of course he let his guard down, of course it was a trap…

A cloud of purple smoke appeared and he heard the voice that haunted his nightmares intone,

“I am the _real_ terror that flaps in the night.”

Jim Starling gnashed his teeth and growled.

Looks like the punk was ready for round two.

But so was he.

*****

“I am the needle in the haystack,” Darkwing said as he dropped down to the floor in front of Negaduck. “I am the real, true, one-and-only Darkwing Duck! And you are nothing but a cheap knock-off in polyester, Negaduck!”

Negaduck snarled at Darkwing. “Negaduck, huh? That’s what you’re gonna call me? Couldn’t come up with anything original? Oh, no, that’s right, you can’t. Because you’re just some punk movie-star wannabe sullying the name ‘Darkwing Duck’!”

“Excuse you, this is a homage to greatness!” Darkwing declared. “You’re the one doing the sullying!”

Negaduck threw back his head and let out a short bark of a laugh before smirking at Darkwing. “Oh, you stupid little boy, you should have just stuck to playing dress-up. You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

Negaduck reached his hand into his jacket and pulled out something small and round, black as night.

“Tell you what, sport, here’s something to play with while the grown-ups work.”

With that, he tossed the bomb at Darkwing, who caught it.

There was a flash of light and a boom as the bomb went off, the glass from the cases shattering around them.

Negaduck laughed maniacally, but his laugh was cut off as he was tackled to the ground by a slightly-singed Darkwing.

They rolled on the glass-covered floor, punching and kicking and biting at each other, each trying to get the upper hand.

Negaduck pinned Darkwing to the floor by his wrists, only for Darkwing to use his feet to push Negaduck off of him. Negaduck fell onto his side, pushing himself up onto his knees, his back to Darkwing.

Darkwing prepared his fist for the punch to knock out Negaduck’s lights…

Only for Negaduck to swing around and his fist to meet Darkwing’s in the world’s most aggressive fist-bump.

The surprise gave Negaduck enough time to get to his feet. They glared each other down.

Darkwing struck.

Negaduck parried.

Negaduck kicked.

Darkwing blocked.

Darkwing swiped.

Negaduck ducked.

It was this odd dance, and it unnerved Darkwing.

Because every move he made, Negaduck seemed to anticipate.

Every move Darkwing made with his dominant left side, Negaduck could replicate using his own dominate right side.

But what was even more unnerving was the Darkwing also could anticipate Negaduck’s actions, because they felt so much like his own.

Negaduck fought like Darkwing.

Or did Darkwing fight like Negaduck?

Blue and red lights flashed through the windows, sirens wailing. The front door was broken down by two burly cops, Chief Grizzlikoff behind them.

“What the—?” The police chief exclaimed. “There’s two of them?”

“No, one’s the real Darkwing, and the other is the fake! The real thief!” Gosalyn declared as she and her friends rushed to the officers.

“But which one is the real Darkwing?” Grizzlikoff demanded.

“I am!” Darkwing and Negaduck said, each pointing at themselves with their thumb. Then they both turned to snarl at the other.

“It’s over, Negaduck!” Darkwing declared. “You’re surrounded!”

“It ain’t over till the fat lady sings,” Negaduck snarled. “But it’s curtain call for you, Deadmeat Duck!”

With that, he whipped out a revving chainsaw, rushing at Darkwing with it, who leapt back with a yelp as the chainsaw nearly sliced through his jacket.

“Where did he get that?” Dewey yelled.

“Did he have that the whole time?” Webby exclaimed.

“Seriously, how has he held on to that for so long?” Gosalyn asked.

“This sort of stuff happens in cartoons, not real life!” Huey yelled, tugging on his hat.

“Uh, chief?” One of the officers said. “What’s the protocol for guys with chainsaws?”

Chief Grizzlikoff was just staring in disbelief.

As he was backed towards the cases, Darkwing grabbed a fistful of necklaces and threw them at Negaduck.

“Ha!” He yelled. “You missed!”

Darkwing smirked. “Did I?”

Negaduck’s eyes widened as he realized that the chainsaw was sputtering, the delicate gold chains tangling the chainsaw’s blades, choking it so that it refused to work. Negaduck punched the chainsaw, then growled and threw the whole thing at Darkwing, who ducked.

“This isn’t over, punk,” Negaduck snarled as he pulled out another bomb. But instead of throwing it at Darkwing or anyone else, he simply dropped it at his feet.

Everyone ducked for cover in the resulting explosion.

When the dust cleared, Negaduck was gone.

Daisy was the first to recover, running down the stairs in the Drake Mansion foyer, not a hair out of place and her bow perfectly straight, and beaming at Dave’s camera as she said,

“Again, folks, we are live at the Drake Mansion, where we just witnessed the escape of the treacherous thief and villain known as Negaduck, who has been impersonating Duckburg’s very own hero, Darkwing Duck, leading him to be falsely accused of crimes all across the city. Chief Grizzlikoff, is it safe to assume that Darkwing Duck has been cleared of all charges made against him, especially upon reviewing the evidence with this newest development?”

Chief Grizzlikoff looked very tired as he looked at Daisy, then the camera, and said, “We’ll be making an official press release in the morning. Ms. Duck, you will be the first to know when that will be happening.”

Daisy smirked and she winked at the camera as she said, “Eat your heart out, Roxanne.”

The kids, meanwhile, rushed over to Darkwing, who was brushing himself off.

“Are you okay, Darkwing?” Gosalyn asked, looking for any visually apparent injuries.

“Physically, yes,” Darkwing said, scowling at the spot of the second explosion. “But otherwise, I’m very disturbed.”

“Because he got away?” Louie asked.

“No,” Darkwing said, shaking his head. “Because something about this guy feels so familiar. And I don’t know why.”

*****

In the sewers, Jim put his hands on his knees, panting slightly, taking a breather before he continued. He was far away now, and he doubted any of the cops would be looking in the sewers.

He leaned against the wall, sinking until he sat on the stone platform ledge. He took out the necklace.

“You better have been worth it,” He growled at the necklace as he pulled out his pocket knife. He carefully pried back the gold prongs holding the sapphire in place. He tossed that aside, making a small splash in the sewage water.

He took out the Blood Ruby.

He placed it in the center of the pendant.

It fit.

A perfect fit.

He grinned as he put the prongs back in place. He wrapped his fist around the pendant and held his fist to his chest, closing his eyes.

It was all worth it.

Now he just had get it to Morgana.

Morgana and Jim, together again.

And together, they’d take down that little uppity punk who thought he was actually Darkwing Duck.

Negaduck, though…

“Negaduck,” He whispered, looking at the Blood Ruby pendant again, brushing his thumb over the stone. He remembered that name. From the half-dozen fansites he perused in a depressed and rage-fueled haze after the show was cancelled, all with theories about the other Darkwing from the final episode, the one setting bombs all over town.

Negaduck.

“It does got a nice ring to it,” Negaduck said as he put the necklace back in his jacket pocket.

Then he stood up and began to leisurely stroll back to his lair, whistling his own theme song as he went.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Vernal Equinox!

“Sounds like you kids did a bang up job!” Scrooge McDuck proclaimed the following afternoon, post the press conference where Chief Grizzlikoff begrudgingly announced that Darkwing Duck was no longer Duckburg’s Number One Enemy and that he was clear of all charges, though with an additional warning to be on the lookout for Negaduck. “So what is over there stressin’ out Drake?”

“He thinks there’s something weird about Negaduck,” Gosalyn explained, looking over her shoulder before glancing back at the computer screen, where Scrooge and Launchpad were videochatting with them at the mansion.

“Weird beyond the chainsaws and bombs he was pulling out of nowhere?” Huey asked. “Seriously, how was he defying the laws of physics and logic?”

“Weird as in he was familiar,” Drake said, from where he was pacing from behind the couch. “And weird in that we… Well, it felt like I fought like him. Or he fought like me. I’m not sure which.”

“Uh, has Gyro been messing with his cloning machine again?” Launchpad asked.

“Already checked. It’s been put in his TBR pile since the Moonvasion,” Louie said.

“To be read?” Huey asked, his brow furrowed.

“To be repaired,” Louie corrected.

“Oh. Yeah, that makes more sense…” Huey said nodding.

“Anyway,” Louie said. “The thing is totally busted. There’s no way it could have accidentally gone off or anything. In other words, clone theory is out. So it’s someone that fights like Darkwing, but isn’t a clone

“There’s a lot of questions we still have about this guy,” Gosalyn said. “Beyond why Dad feels like they fight the same. I mean, we never figured out why he only wanted specifically gold necklaces.”

“And we have no idea where he disappeared to or how,” Webby added.

“And why he was so insistent that he was the—” Dewey cut himself off, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. Suddenly, he spun around on the couch, getting on his knees, gripping the back of the couch as he looked at Drake. “Drake. Drake. Drake!”

“Yeah?” Drake prompted, pausing in his pacing.

“Negaduck called you a ‘punk movie star wannabe’,” Dewey said.

“He called me a lot of things,” Drake responded, starting to pace again.

“ _Movie star_ ,” Dewey repeated, stressing the words. “And he accused you of sullying the name of Darkwing Duck.”

“Okay, so he was a fan of the original show, but he wasn’t doing much better,” Gosalyn pointed out.

“ _Movie. Star_!” Dewey repeated, banging his fists on the back of the couch to emphasize each word.

“What the blazes are ye getting’ at, Dewey?” Scrooge asked.

“I think he is familiar to Drake,” Dewey said. He looked over his shoulder at the computer screen. “And to Launchpad, too.”

“Buh?” Launchpad said, his brow furrowing. “But I’ve never met the guy!”

“I think you have,” Dewey argued. “And so have Uncle Scrooge and I.”

“Dewey, stop talkin’ in circles, lad, and get to the point,” Scrooge said with a sigh.

“What I’m saying,” Dewey said slowly. “Is that there’s very few people who know that Drake was in a _Darkwing Duck_ movie, one that got one trailer and then disappeared off the face of the internet. And that, instead of becoming famous for playing the character of Darkwing Duck, Drake instead became the hero Darkwing Duck. But there are even fewer people who are as big _Darkwing Duck_ fanatics. So my point is,” He glanced at Louie. “Maybe we should reconsider that whole ‘ghost’ theory.”

“You mean that theory that the ghost of Jim Starling is running around as Negaduck?” Louie said. “Yeah, I think Drake landed a couple of solid hits on him—and vice versa—that nixed that theory.”

“Yeah, but that would mean he wasn’t a ghost,” Dewey said. “It would mean that he is very much alive.”

Drake froze in his pacing again, feeling the blood draining from his face as he turned to look at Dewey.

“Wait,” He said. “You think Negaduck is…”

“Jim Starling?” Launchpad finished, his eyes wide. “But he died!”

“Hmm, Dewey may be on to something,” Scrooge said, tapping his chin. “We never received confirmation that Starling had been found in the wreckage from the set.”

Drake flopped into the armchair, sinking down in it. “I’m not sure what’s more disturbing, that Jim Starling could be alive and we never had a clue, or that he could be alive and is Negaduck.”

“It would explain why he was so insistent that he was Darkwing Duck,” Webby pointed out.

Drake groaned and put his hands over his eyes. “It would explain a lot more than that. Like why fighting him was so hard.”

“Really?” Gosalyn said. “I mean, you didn’t land many hits on him, but he didn’t either.”

“That’s exactly what I mean by it was hard,” Drake said. “I taught myself how to fight. And you know how I did that?”

“Books?” Huey suggested.

“The internet?” Louie suggested.

“A mysterious ninja master who lives on the top of Mount Fuji?” Webby suggested.

“No,” Drake said, moving his hands, looking and sounding dejected. “By watching reruns of _Darkwing Duck_. So I essentially learned from Jim Starling. Which means…”

“Which means you and Jim Starling fight the same way,” Scrooge finished, sounding more intrigued than anything else. “And if Negaduck is Jim Starling… Interestin’…”

“I can’t fight him!” Drake insisted, throwing his hands out in front of him.

“I’m sure you can find ways to get around the exact same fightin’ technique,” Scrooge said. “I’d be happy to introduce you to my friend Punchy LaRue. She’s one of ‘em kick-boxing instructors. And does some dancing on the side in a day club in Italy, but that’s beside the point. Launchpad, make a note, we’ll stop by Venice on our way back to Duckburg.”

“That, uh, wasn’t exactly what I meant,” Drake said. “I meant, I can’t fight him because, well, for a number of reasons.”

“Number one, he’s old. Like, so, so old…” Louie said, hunching his body over to exaggerate age, which received a ‘humph’ and glare from Scrooge.

“Will anyone let me finish my train of thought?” Drake demanded. “My reasons include that he’s been my idol and hero since I was a kid. I got into acting and being a hero because of him. How am I supposed to fight him? How am I supposed to turn him over to the cops, where he’d rot in jail?”

“Look on the bright side, Dad,” Gosalyn said cheerfully. “If he’s carrying that many bombs around, he’s likely to blow himself up and then you won’t have to fight him or put him in jail! ‘Cause he’d be dead!”

“How your mind works both amazes and terrifies me, daughter of mine,” Drake commented wryly. He tilted his head back. “What am I going to do? I don’t know if I can fight him again…”

“Well, Negaduck said it wasn’t over, so he probably is going to come back for revenge or whatever,” Louie pointed out. “So it sounds like you’re going to have to fight him eventually.”

Drake suddenly sat up. “But maybe I don’t! Maybe… I don’t have to fight him!”

“If you wish to leave him to Gizmoduck, I’m certain Fenton would be—” Scrooge started to say.

“No, no,” Drake said excitedly. “Maybe I don’t have to fight him, if I can convince him to be a good guy again! Or, at least, realize that he’s being seen as a bad guy. Lead him back into the light and he can give up being Negaduck. Ergo, I don’t have to fight him, and I don’t have to put him in prison!”

“There’s still all the charges of stealing, property destruction, and identity theft against him, though,” Huey pointed out.

“Small potatoes,” Drake said, waving a hand as he got to his feet again. “It’s almost dusk, I need to go on patrol. There’s a chance he’s still in Duckburg! Maybe I can find him tonight!”

As Drake rushed from the room. Gosalyn heaved a sigh and got off the couch, glancing at the video-chat screen and said, “Launchpad, please come home soon.” Then she yelled, “Dad, wait for me!”

With that, she ran after Drake.

“Well, on the bright side,” Webby said. “He seems to have put a positive spin on what would otherwise be a mentally and emotionally crippling revelation.”

“You remember that time that Huey ate all that sugar and was running around the mansion for hours?” Louie asked. “And then he slept for, like, a day and a half? Yeah. I think this is the sugar rush before the crash.”

Dewey looked at Launchpad on the other side of the video chat and said, “Yeah, I second Gos. You better come home soon. ‘Cause no one knows how to handle a crash like you, Launchpad.”

“You know it,” Launchpad said. “See you all soon.”

*****

From the sidecar in the Ratcatcher, Gosalyn looked up at Darkwing, his eyes focused on the road as they headed home, his face serious. But she could see the wheels turning in his head. And they were full of disappointing and sad thoughts.

“Hey, Dad,” She said. “Don’t worry about it. So we didn’t find Mr. Starling tonight. Launchpad should be home tomorrow in enough time to go on patrol, and maybe you’ll have better luck with him. Besides, I’m sure he’ll show up again soon.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Darkwing responded. “Him showing up again as Negaduck.”

“Because you’ll have to fight him?” Gosalyn asked.

“Because if he controls the circumstances we meet next, then there’s no chance of him listening to me,” Darkwing explained.

“There’s no guarantee he’d listen if you were the one controlling the circumstances, either,” Gosalyn pointed out. “It’d make him even more reluctant to listen to you.”

She regretted saying that as she watched him deflate slightly. “You’re right. I can try, and try, and try, but I have no idea if he’d even listen to me. I can’t force him to do anything. Heck, I don’t know if there’s even a chance he’d consider changing on his own.” He was quiet for a moment, then he said, “You know, for a superhero, I kinda suck at confronting people, don’t I?”

“A little bit,” Gosalyn admitted.

“I hate it,” Darkwing admitted. “Always have. With my parents, with co-workers, and, ugh, especially with Binkie. Which she has totally been exploiting… Point is, whenever I try to confront people, they always dismiss me, no matter what I say or how I say it. Why should I expect Jim Starling to be any different?”

“Maybe you need to find a way to not say it?” Gosalyn suggested. “You know, actions speak louder than words? For Mr. Starling, maybe you’ll just have to find a way to show him that you still believe in him, that he can be a good guy.”

“Maybe,” Darkwing agreed as they turned onto their street. All was quiet and dark. Peaceful. Perfect suburbia, slumbering away.

And there, sitting so innocently beside his own humble abode, was the house of the neighbors from hell.

Suddenly, Darkwing hit the brakes, jerking himself and Gosalyn forward a little. He sat there and stared at the house

“Uh, Dad? You okay there?” Gosalyn asked warily.

“Gosalyn,” Darkwing said in a low voice. “I think we need to do some yard work.”

“Okay?” Gosalyn said. “But you’re staring at the Muddlefoots’ house.”

“I know.”

“Dad,” Gosalyn said, sounding half excited, half scared. “Are we gonna do donuts on their lawn? Please tell me we’re gonna do donuts on their lawn.”

“No, no, we’re going to focus on our yard,” Darkwing said.

“So, like, first thing in the morning?”

Darkwing pulled the Ratcatcher into the driveway of their house. “Nope. Go get on your ratty work clothes.”

“What, now? It’s almost two in the morning!”

With a decidedly evil smile, Drake smiled at her. “I know. Words aren’t going to work. Time for action. Let’s get obnoxious.”

*****

The sound of electric hedge-trimmers woke up Binkie and Herb in the middle of the night.

“What a strange noise,” Binkie declared as she sat up in bed. She winced and shielded her eyes. “And that light…”

“What in the world is goin’ on out there?” Herb asked as he got out of bed, going to their window, which faced the Mallards’ back yard. “Would you believe it? It’s Drake and Gosalyn!”

Herb opened the window. “Drake!” He called.

Drake lowered the hedge-trimmers, switching them off as he lifted his safety goggles. “Evening, Herb!”

“Drakester,” Herb called, trying not to be blinded by the big, bright lights that were situated all around the back yard. “What are you doing? It’s two o’clock in the morning!”

“I know,” Drake yelled back. “Perfect for some moonlight gardening! Don’t you agree, Gos?”

“I do, Dad!” Gosalyn yelled back as she gave a yank on the cord for the push mower, which roared to life.

“But it’s a new moon,” Herb said, looking up at the moonless sky—not that he would have been able to see the moon anyway from the proximity of the lights.

“Which is why we need the lights, of course,” Drake said. “But, you know, the moon is still there even though we can’t see it. Ergo, moonlight gardening.”

“But it’s the middle of the night!” Binkie stressed. “Everyone is asleep! You should both be asleep!”

“Ah, but Binkie, sister dear,” Drake said with a smile. “You forget. I work nights. Which means I sleep during the day. Especially early in the day. But sometimes when I get off shifts, I’m not ready for sleeping just yet. Which means that becomes the most opportune time to knock out some of those pesky household and yard maintenance jobs.”

“Yep!” Gosalyn agreed as she went past with the mower, mostly going in circles. “Such a peaceful time to work on the yard!”

“Now, go on back to sleep, and don’t you worry about us,” Drake said, making a shooing motion. “And, if you want, we can do your yard, too! After all, what are neighbors for?”

With a quick “no thank you”, Binkie and Herb retreated from the window.

They had a feeling that this was not a battle they could win.

Drake smirked as the window closed.

The tides of war were changing…

*****

Binkie and Herb were exhausted. The boys had managed to sleep through the noise and lights from the night before, but they were up long after Drake and Gosalyn had finally stopped their yard work.

They were both on their third cup of coffee in an hour, a rarity for either of them. They just felt so dead on their feet…

“Where’s breakfast?” Champ demanded as he stormed down the stairs, looking around the kitchen.

“I haven’t made it yet,” Binkie mumbled.

“Why not?” Champ demanded with a stomp of his foot. “I’m hungry!”

“Mommy is very sleepy right now, sweetie,” Binkie said with a yawn. “Let me finish this cup of—”

The doorbell rang.

“Champ, go get the door,” Herb mumbled into his coffee cup.

Champ stomped out of the room and opened the door.

Moments later, Drake and Gosalyn appeared, both grinning widely. The former was carrying a casserole dish covered with tin-foil, and the latter was wearing the dress that Binkie had forced upon her the previous week.

“Howdy, neighbors!” Drake said, way too loudly and way too cheerfully for that early in the morning as he slammed the casserole dish on the table between Binkie and Herb, who winced. “Good morning to all!”

Drake then proceeded to throw open the curtains at the window above the sink, letting in light, which Binkie and Herb proceeded to wince at.

“Now, Gosalyn and I realized that we never brought you over a housewarming gift,” Drake said. “And we figured we would remedy that right away!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to…” Binkie mumbled.

“Oh, but we did!” Gosalyn said as she pulled back the tinfoil on the casserole dish. “Especially since you made us that delicious spinach casserole. Yum! And so, I made my famous Mud Pie brownies! Brownies with a gooey fudge center, baked with chocolate candies, frosting flavored with Pep, drizzled with chocolate syrup, and, of course, sprinkled with pure, granulated sugar!”

Binkie stared at the casserole dish, horrified but a polite smile frozen on her face. “That’s… very, uh, kind of you, Gosalyn, dear. I’m sure that will make a lovely dessert tonight…”

“Or breakfast now!” Champ declared as he grabbed two brownies from the dish, stuffing one in his mouth.

Binkie’s eyes went wide as she watched her son eat the brownie.

“Champ!” She cried out. “That’s not a balanced breakfast!”

“It’s way better than burnt and bland oatmeal!” Champ said through the mouthful he had stuffed in. “This is the best thing I’ve _ever_ eaten!”

“Son, you still shouldn’t eat brownies for breakfast,” Herb said, trying to assist his wife.

“But Gosalyn and Uncle Drakey made them especially for us,” Honker said as he entered the kitchen, Drake behind him. When had Drake left the kitchen? “It’d be rude not to eat them, right?”

With that, Gosalyn handed him a brownie and patted him on the head affectionately. “Made with extra love, just for you guys!” Then she turned and batted her eyelashes at Binkie and Herb, pouting slightly. “What’s the matter? Do you not like them?”

Herb and Binkie looked like deer trapped in headlights.

“Well…” Binkie said.

“Oh,” Gosalyn sighed, looking deflated. “That’s okay…”

“No, no, dear, we do… like them?” Binkie said through a strained voice. She picked up a brownie. “Or, at least, we like the sound of them? We haven’t… tried one yet to know for sure.”

“But I’m sure we’ll love them!” Herb said as he also grabbed a brownie. He took a bite, looking shocked from all the sugar. “Yum…”

“Yes. Yum.” Binkie squeaked as she nibbled on her own.

Drake came over and clapped Gosalyn on the shoulders. “Well, we’ll get out of your hair now. Good to see you, Herb! Binkie. Champ. Honk-man…”

And so Drake and Gosalyn left before the sugar rush could kick in.

“Did you get it to Honker?” Gosalyn asked in a low voice as they walked back to their house.

“I did,” Drake confirmed. He glanced over his shoulder at the Muddlefoots’ house where there was a shrill shriek from Binkie, and asked, “Did you mention that the brownies have espresso in them?”

“I figured I’d leave our secret ingredient a secret,” Gosalyn said, a wicked twinkle in her eye.

Drake smirked.

*****

Herb wasn’t hiding from his family, per se. Not even avoiding them, really. But this new mailbox had to be taken care of, really.

And if it happened to take him away from the chaos inside of Binkie trying to reign in Champ and Honker, then so be it. That wasn’t his fault.

Herb was smiling at his work; he had taken down the mailbox that had been there, with its plain white wood pole and white box. So unimaginative. So cliché. Now, that wouldn’t do.

So he had painted over it, of course. Painted the box to match the shutters, and painted their name on the side.

“Love the paint job, Herb,” Drake said as he wandered over. “Indeed, very nice.”

“Well, thanks, Drakester,” Herb said as he surveyed his work, pleased.

Drake paused beside him, nodding slightly. “Yes, very nice… But, let me give you some neighborly advice: This isn’t going to fly with the Home Owners Association President. He’s a real stickler for the rules, you know.”

Herb scoffed and waved a hand dismissively, as one did to rules when you grew up so privileged that the rules had never applied to you—whether you knew it (like his older brother, Tank, did) or not (as Herb had).

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Herb said. “Like you said, it’s very nicely done. A work of art, really. I’m sure the HOA Prez and I can work something out. After all, there’s no harm in this, really.”

Drake smirked at that and said, “Oh, many have tried to use that line on him. And all have failed. He’s been call a tyrant on multiple occasions.”

“I’m sure it’ll be different with me. He hasn’t been introduced to the ol’ Herb Muddlefoot charm,” Herb said, tugging on his shirt in a smug, self-assured manner. “By the way, who is the HOA President? We haven’t been introduced yet.”

There was a long pause in which Drake simply stared at him, his smile growing. As did Herb’s uneasiness.

Then, Drake did a dramatic spin on his heels, and he stuck out his hand towards Herb, his friendly smile becoming like that of a crocodile. “Drake Mallard, Home Owners Association President. Pleasure to meet you, Herb. Now. About your mailbox…”

Herb felt himself deflate entirely as Drake went over the rules and regulations of the neighborhood—and why the last two hours of work were now null and void.

Because the HOA President was, in fact, a tyrant and there was no rule bending on his watch.

*****

It had been a very, very long day. Champ and Honker were practically bouncing off the walls, Binkie and Herb could hardly keep their eyes open, and the rest of the brownies had to be put in lockdown.

The house was a disaster, Binkie had resorted to pizza for dinner, Herb was exhausted from having painted his mailbox and then have to repaint it to meet HOA standards, and both were glad that bedtime was approaching because there was no way that their day could get worse.

And then the doorbell rang.

From the living room, where they were both slumped in armchairs, Binkie and Herb shared a tired look.

“I’ll get it,” Herb mumbled as he got to his feet. The door was opened and…

“Howdy, neighbors!” Drake greeted as he was followed into the house by Gosalyn and Launchpad. They were carrying various books, notebooks, pens, and, for some reason, a bag full of dice.

“Drake?” Binkie said, instantly on guard. What other chaos could he cause? “What are you doing here?”

“Why, since you were so kind to install a family dinner night on us, I thought I would return the favor with family game night,” Drake said, striding into the dining room. He hollered, “Champ! Honker! Uncle Drakey’s got a new game for you!”

“Cool!” Champ yelled as he ran in. “Is it a video game?”

“It’s better than a video game,” Gosalyn said. She held up one of the books. “We’re gonna play _Towers and Trolls_!”

“Lame,” Champ groaned.

“It is not!” Gosalyn argued. “Is slaying monsters lame? With swords and big battle axes?”

Champ’s eyes lit up at the thought of weaponry.

“A battle axe? I want that! Where is it?” He demanded, looking around.

“We’ll add it to your character’s design,” Launchpad said. “So he can carry it around on campaign.”

“Campaigns are boring though,” Champ argued, immediately looking skeptical again. “Last time Grandpa was on campaign, it was just a bunch of boring speeches.”

“Campaign, in this case, is something closer to adventure,” Launchpad explained. “Like a quest. And no boring speeches.”

“Unless Dad goes on one of his Tower Taskmaster narrative rants,” Gosalyn said.

“Hey, _Violet_ likes my dramatic monologues,” Drake snapped.

“Yeah, well, Violet’s not here,” Gosalyn retorted. “Anyways, here’s how you set up a character.”

“Drake,” Binkie hissed. “Get over here.”

“Yes, sister mine?” Drake said innocently.

“Don’t you think this… game… is a little violent for such sweet young innocent boys?” Binkie demanded.

“Relax, I’ll go easy on them their first round,” Drake said. “Nothing too out-there.”

“Drake.” Binkie hissed again.

“Binkie.”

“ _Drake_.”

“Yes?”

Binkie huffed and said, “Champ, Honker, you can’t—”

“Uncle Drakey?” Honker said, his eyes fixated on the pages in front of him. “Can I be a Paladin?”

“You can be whatever you want, Honker,” Drake told him.

“No!” Binkie snapped. “No, you cannot!”

Honker looked up, his eyes big and sad. “I… I can’t?” He practically whimpered.

“No,” Binkie said firmly.

“Gee, Binkie, what kind of message is telling your kid that he can’t be whatever he wants?” Drake asked, his hand to his chest, looking scandalized.

Binkie stared at him for a moment, then, in a panic, turned to Honker with a sweet smile and said quickly, “Of course you can be whatever you want, Sweetie.”

Honker smiled and nodded. “Then I want to be a Paladin!”

And that was how Binkie and Herb got sucked into Family Game Night…

*****

Binkie and Herb did put their foot down about an hour later, declaring it to be bedtime. Champ groaned and stomped off, while Honker gave Drake and his parents hugs before going to get ready for bed.

“Launchpad, how about you take Gosalyn on home?” Drake said. “I want to talk with Binkie and Herb for a moment.”

Binkie narrowed her eyes at him while Herb simply looked like a deer in headlights.

“What is it you want to talk about, Drake?” Binkie asked, still attempting to sound perky but in a way that they all knew was forced.

“Oh, just something I’m worried about. You know, parent to parent,” Drake said, sitting down on the couch, making himself at home. “About Champ and Honker.”

“In what regard?” Binkie demanded, refusing to sit, folding her arms over her chest.

“In that Champ will take any opportunity to hurt Honker, and keeps getting away with it,” Drake said.

“Nonsense!” Binkie said. “Champ is an angel!”

“So the boys roughhouse a little,” Herb said dismissively. “Boys will be boys, ya know.”

“I know that phrase is outdated, over-used, and harmful,” Drake said, arching an eyebrow. “And this is beyond roughhousing.”

“How do you know?” Binkie asked. “You’ve only known the boys for, what, a week?”

In response, Drake took out his phone, pressing play on a video. It was featured Champ prominently, shoving and hitting the person holding onto the camera.

“I gave my phone to Honker earlier this morning,” Drake said simply. “Told him to record video anytime he and Champ were alone.”

“Circumstantial,” Binkie said with a wave of her hand.

“Out of context,” Herb added.

“Blowing one incident out of proportion,” Binkie insisted.

“Am I?” Drake asked. “Ask Honker how often this happens. Ask yourselves, when does it stop being good-natured roughhousing? Ask yourselves how often you’ve looked away instead of being there for your kid, no matter what. And until you do that, leave me and Gosalyn alone. My parenting isn’t the same as yours. My kid isn’t the same as yours. My life will—thankfully—never be the same as yours. I ask that you respect that.”

“And why should we give you any respect, when you haven’t earned any?” Binkie asked, narrowing her eyes at him, adding in the nonverbal ‘or deserve any’.

Drake stood up from the couch and dusted himself off, saying, “Because I can and will make your lives here hell. Now. We can peacefully cohabitate the same neighborhood. But you respect that my house is mine, Gosalyn is my child to parent, and that—above all else— _I. Work. Nights._ Now. I bid you good night.”

He was halfway out the door when Binkie said, “Drake.”

Against his better judgement, he turned to look over his shoulder at his sister, who glared at him furiously.

“I know you didn’t want us to move here.” She told him.

“You’re right, I didn’t,” Drake confirmed.

“But you are not going to get rid of us that easily.”

Drake simply smiled at her. “Of course not. You’ve always been the best at going along with whatever crazy scheme Dad and Mom have come up with. I expect nothing less.”

With that, he left the Muddlefoots house and walked over to his own.

He entered the house, finding Launchpad and Gosalyn in the living room, watching a rerun of _Pelican’s Island_.

Drake sunk onto the couch, Launchpad’s arm wrapping around him. Gosalyn crawled into their laps, snuggling herself in as Drake wrapped an arm around her middle.

“So?” Gosalyn asked. “They going to leave us alone?”

“Eh. There will be war,” Drake said. “But nothing we can’t handle. Together.”

“The three of us do make a good team,” Launchpad said.

“Yep,” Gosalyn said with a nod. “And now the team’s back together! Nothing can stop us now!” She tilted her head up at Launchpad. “We really missed you, by the way.”

“I missed you guys, too,” Launchpad said, tightening his arm around Drake. “But, DW? Shouldn’t we be out looking for Negaduck?”

“Not tonight, LP. Negaduck will be back,” Drake said. “We’ll catch him eventually. But you know what won’t be back anytime soon? This moment. So let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”

And so they did.


End file.
